Butchered
by TotoroX92
Summary: Worm CYOA V3.0 Trying to trick the rules of a game is seldom wise, and can only be less so when the game involves the fate of universes. Fortunatley, some species are bread for just such a task... Soft cross with Homestuck for some of the powers.
1. 1-1

I dreamt I was falling. Falling, falling- SPLAT.

I landed in a shallow pool of mud, a miniature tidal wave spreading from the impact and disturbing a flock of mosquitos. They settled on my skin for a moment before darting off, displeased with my taste, I expect.

I blinked somewhat dazedly as I pulled myself out of the muck. Wet? What? A Swamp? I was… where was I? I had been at home right? I remember warm snuggly kitties, now I was… in a Mangrove forest? At least going by the heat and humidity and bugs and mud and trees and... It was late afternoon, and slowly diminishing sunlight glimmered over the tree tops through the light cloud cover. I was leaning up against one of the trees, fingers digging into the damp moss and blinking with confusion at my surroundings, a hand absently wiping mud off my clothing.

A sudden spike of pain hit me right in the forehead.

YoU sIgNeD uP fOr ThIs, BrOtHeR. ReMeMbEr?

Oh shit. Shit. Shitty shit, shit, shit. Grub molesting, bulge groping, autoerogenous shame globe fondling, shit.

Worm.

No. Just, no. This couldn't happen. Literally. It physically could not happen.

I fell to my knees, staring into the murky water, trying to catch my reflection.

Black hair, not brown. Grey skin, not pale. Horns.

I raised a hand and gingerly touched the protruding keratin, flinching back as I _felt my fingers on my horns_. A sudden wave of body dysmorphia swept over me at the utterly alien sensation. My hand tightened convulsively on the smooth curves and induced a renewed wave of dissociative nausea.

This. Was. Not. Happening.

I was not on the planet of psycho murder machines. I was not going to be slaughtered by a retarded god in just a few years. I was not going to be forced to kill dozens of people…

…Only dozens?

I crouched in the murky water in a daze; where had that thought come from? Images trickled past, memories- no, not my memories- memories, memories of my hive on a cliff near the sea-I have never lived near the ocean- MEMORIES of painting pretty pretty pictures on the walls in grub blood-never killed anyone- memories that could DEAL WITH THIS.

I stiffened and looked back at my reflection in the water.

I immediately started to hyperventilate as I saw my uncovered face. No, bad, bad, bad, gotta keep my cool, you gotta have something on you. I scrambled through my pockets, noting the loose pajama pants and baggy hoody absently, and found a small tub of grease paint. I heaved a sigh of relief and began to carefully smear it onto my face. Neatly covered, I found another smaller tub with a dark grey color in it. Detail work. A pair of horizontal bars over the eyebrows, slide down the sides of my nose, swooping down over my cheeks, then a curve over my lips. I turned my head side-to-side admiring the work and checking for errors. Not bad.

A white face with a dark gray, upside down Omega symbol stared back at me, looking younger than I remembered but still recognizably my own, with elegantly curving, but still rather short, horns swooping back over my head through my short black hair. My smile of appreciation exposed a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, causing me to smile even wider.

This was fine.

this was normal. EVERYTHING WAS OKAY.

i-we-i was going to be fine; I WAS BORN-hatched-BORN FOR THIS.

i was nearly immortal, I WAS STRONG, I was a mOtHeR fUcKiNg high-blood, i was going TO BE FINE.

My cheek twitched as I SMILED AT MY SURROUNDINGS, and I slapped at it absently. First things first, figuring out where I was exactly and finding some capes to cull- murder!murder! murder!murder!- TO CULL, for their powers. They didn't matter, after all, only people with names mattered… yes… that's right, Planet Meat-Grinder, lambs to the slaughter, might as well be for a useful purpose, mother FUCKING cops and robbers my left glute…

The swamp was large, but I could run fast, my aura-highblood strength-MY AURA, allowing me to dash along at a dead sprint for hours without growing tired. Eventually I emerged from the edge of the trees, swamp giving way to sandy beach. I glowered at the moon as it peeked over the horizon, huge and orange. It was the wrong color… wasn't it? I was pretty sure I remembered the moon being a lovely green… and wasn't there supposed to be a pink one too? I couldn't quite remember, both seemed… right.

I glowered at the sand beneath my strut pods/feet in confusion. Why was it hard to remember? Why did it seem like I could remember both? I had only lived one life, after all… right? Yes… I was TotoroX92… or was it just Totoro? No, no it was the first-second-FIRST ONE… yes… I shifted uncomfortably at the uncertainty and my gaze drifted along the coast till it settled on the gleaming lights of a city.

Whatever. Enough Angst, I had souls to harvest.

I wandered aimlessly around the bad neighborhood I eventually found myself in, but the few suspicious looking people I found ran as soon as they got a good look at me. That was disappointing honestly; I needed to die a few times to start accruing powers from my killers. If I couldn't find any capes about, I was S-O-L.

But low and behold a MIRACLE. A tickle of hatred and fear blipped my radar, I heard the sound of lasers and gunfire from up ahead, and began to run at a pretty good clip, aura enhanced stride carrying my swiftly forward. I burst onto the scene of a modestly large cape fight and took a moment to SAVOR MY FOOD. From the costumes I was thinking three heroes against a pair of villains. The heroes all had a bit of white or gold on their costumes, whereas the villains had black and red. Not very subtle. Well, wouldn't want them to kill each other before they could kill me.

I hit them all with a massive wave of apathy. Within moments they had all stopped fighting and were standing listlessly.

"Hey new friends, I hope you don't mind, but I all up and need some powers, and ya'll fit the bill."

I stood in front of my first target, a man in a stripped down set of black fatigues with a red bandana mask who was holding a gun, and hit him with a massive blast of rage. He snarled, snapped the gun up, and fired point blank into my face.

I blinked, looking at the body crumpling to the ground in front of me, gun still smoking in my hand. Hmm, a decent Thinker, intuitive understanding of ballistic trajectories. Not bad. It didn't even hurt much, really. The new body shrunk and the clothes transformed and everything was as it should be. I didn't kill him, he killed me, get what's coming to you, serves you right, besides I wasn't killing, what even was that, hahahaHAHAHA, no, no, no, just CULLING THE FUCKING LOWBLOOD MEAT.

I was pleased to note that the mud stayed on my previous corpse. That was the important thing, really. Acting beneath my station, ALL COVERED IN FILTH, dirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirtydirty -

I walked up to the second and handed him the gun. The process repeated until I had absorbed all five of the capes. Besides the trajectory Thinker, there was a Tinker with the ability to create small pocket dimensions, a Blaster who shot lasers that absorbed ambient light in an implosive blast, a Mover who could swim through the ground, and a Shaker that could amplify the effects of weight. All severely weakened of course, but still enough to be getting on with for the moment. Besides, I deserved it-no,no,no,no- I DESERVED IT, they didn't even use their powers intelligently.

I sat down and began to draw, tearing small holes into the bodies lying around my feet so they would bleed neatly. I was pleasantly surprised that their blood appeared to have changed colors after my occupancy, now I had a bit of a palate to work with.

*What's happening?*

-Where are we?-

[I'll kill you for this!]

{Monster!}

|Sharron! Oh God Sharron!|

I frowned at the whispering voices in the back of my head, trying to focus on the large smiley face taking shape on the ground at the center of a basic mandala.

 _Quiet. You're all dead now; I ate you and you're part of me. Forever. Take me to other capes, and I'll give you one favor._

The voices quieted down immediately.

*Ah screw it. Might as well get some decent company.*

I smiled cheerfully.

 _That's the spirit!_

The two villains were part of a local gang, the Santa Meurtes (a bit pretentious if you ask me, but whatever). Unfortunately, they only had four other capes in their gang, and we could only find three. They were added easily enough as well; a rather high level Brute who could use limited areokinesis, a Mover who could use flames as wormholes over a large area, and another Blaster who fired beams of hard-light.

I was a bit upset with the spread; I had hoped for a few Strangers and maybe some more Tinker powers. More Thinkers would always be useful and Trump effects would be… interesting. Unfortunately, most of those would be more difficult to get.

Once the newly added members of Santa Meurtes had settled down, it was time to repay my favor. I sat and began to doodle my interpretation of what Santa Meurte would look like, rainbow cloak of blood and fractal skull.

 _Alright then, you led me to more powers to harvest. Now, what would you like me to do for you_?

They muttered amongst themselves for several minutes before coming to a conclusion.

-The local heroes were pains in the ass. We didn't even do nothing that bad, but they kept harassing us. Fuck em up for us. We'll tell you where the headquarters is and everything.-

|No! My son is in the Wards! Don't hurt him! Please, he's only a little boy.|

 _If you want him left alone, then you want me to do a favor for you. You know what the cost of favors is, yes?_

|I… I can't tell you where to find any heroes, but if you'll leave my son alone I'll tell you where the head of the 23rd Street Kings lives. I found his civilian identity by accident a month ago. Please, just leave my son alone.|

 _Agreed._

The 23rd Street Kings were a mostly un-powered group, only the head and a single lieutenant had any powers worth mentioning. They were held together mostly by the strength of their leader, Abyss, who could summon something like black holes in the surrounding area, massive pits that drew everything into themselves that he could walk through with impunity. A nearly perfect defense and a terrifying threat on the battle field.

His hive-house-HIS HIVE was conscientiously unimpressive, only slightly larger and better maintained then the other homes in the area. I made my way slowly up the side of the building, relying mostly on strength since my flight was essentially nonexistent; barely enough lift me off the ground for a few moments with the Brute's aerokinesis. I was lucky; he was cooking dinner on a gas stove. I flicked open a lighter taken from the fire Mover, and slowly fed myself into the flames. It was an odd squeezing sensation, being sucked into the fire and extruding myself out via the gas burning on the stove. I was just beginning to poke through the flames when he noticed, the pot clanging as it fell off the burner. He sneered at my irritated expression and held his hand up, my body only partway through. The blackness grew and I was swallowed.

I blinked and I was looking at the rapidly shrinking pool of inky darkness on the stove, my new body rapidly shrinking from its bulky musculature.

I opened a small cut on my skin and began to draw, the wails of the new acquisition ringing in the back of my head.

 _There's no point getting all bent out of shape friend, you're with me to the end of days now._

I opted for a simple butterfly on the ground, and signed it with my new-my only- MY NEW NAME.

 **Subjugglator**.

I felt it had a nice ring to it. Besides, it was traditional. I stood up and wiped the leftover blood off on my loose pants. Off to the PRT to collect my last few powers before heading off.

I hummed to myself as I walked out the door.

~ _They encourage your complete cooperation; send you roses when they think you need to smile…~_

Let's see, I needed some better Mover powers, to get to Brockton in a reasonable time. More Tinker powers would be highly useful; I barely felt a trickle of inspiration as it stood, without a couple more to boost each other I would never manage to build anything useful.

 _~I can't control myself because I don't know how, and they love me for it honestly, I'll be here for a while…~_

I also needed find time to train my Aura, the heights available to me with its mastery were of incalculable value. I smiled to myself as I skipped along the road towards the center of town, content in the knowledge of my intrinsic correctness.

 _~I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff…~_

. . .

I sat on the floor of the Protectorate Miami HQ's power testing room putting the finishing touches on my master piece. Swooping lines of color swirled under and over each other, forming an intricate torus that folded into itself to explode outward in a carefully traced lily. I was quite pleased with the work as I hadn't had much of an artistic streak in my last life. The Thinker I acquired earlier helped a bit with the design, and my new Tinker helped with the implementation. The best part was the Striker though. One of the Wards had touch based hemokinesis to a rather astonishing degree. FUCKING MIRACULOUS SKILL WITH MANIPULATING THE SWILL THAT RUNS THROUGH THEIR VEINS. Rust, fudge, mustard, LIME (how rare, how lucky, such a novel color, now all mine), olive, jade, teal, cerulean, indigo, everybody's blood beneath me, as they should be. Purple I could get from my own pusher's beat, drip-drop straight from the vein. None of that wretched violet or sacred tyrian though… not that I got to paint much with that anyway back in… my apartment? In a temple? …Wherever I used to live.

I was frankly astounded by how lucky I had been, even if I hadn't gotten quite as much out of it as I would have liked. At that thought I looked up to glower at the slowly reforming pile of rubble in the corner.

The local Protectorate, besides the three I had eaten already, consisted of an even 6 Wards, and 6 adult members. The son I was set to spare had been out on patrol with another Ward and one of the Adult members, leaving six at the base. Unfortunately for me one of the Wards was a Case 53, composed entirely of rock that he could manipulate with some minor terakinesis. This made him immune to my emotional manipulation, something I only found out after all my new friends had gathered together in the testing area.

Once he figured out what was going on he had tried to stop me, but he didn't have enough fine control to imprison me effectively. He staunchly avoided inflicting more than minor injuries on me though so I had gotten mad eventually and punched him into pieces. Didn't seem to faze him much honestly, so I wasn't bothered none. What even was he if he didn't have blood to say where he up and was on the hemospectrum? I frowned and used the corner of my shirt to wipe a slight spot off the corner of the picture. No blood meant… nothing? Cull bait… sort of… Mutant. Yes, that was it. No blood meant mutant. Mutant means culling. I… hesitated for a moment. I… didn't need to cull him, he seemed… loyal… an admirable, if foolish, trait… Yes… just… ignore him.

The other three wards consisted of the aforementioned Striker hemokinetic, a Blaster that drained the life/energy out of what he hit, and a Tinker with a specialty in water manipulation. Wave generators, hydraulic cutters, etc. He hadn't explored his abilities much as yet, now he never would (its his own fault for being so stupid, not my fault, not my fault). The two remaining Protectorate members had boring powers. One a Master who could shape water into fragile minions and the other a Breaker with a shadow state. Not like Shadow Stalker, his power was actually marginally stronger in that he turned into a literal two-dimensional shadow.

The hemokinesis was nice for painting, but not strong enough in its present state to do more than mulch someone's internals at a touch. The Tinker was the real prize, but I still only had a few ideas on what to build, I definitely needed a couple more similar powers to start the real earth shaking stuff.

I glanced over as the head of the Case 53 finally reformed enough to have recognizable features, eyes rolling briefly in their sockets before coming to rest on me with a baleful glare.

"Hey brother, we all gotta do what we gotta do, and promises are made to be kept. No hard feelings yeah? Makes you feel any better; I do prefer to eat villains, but, well. Don't have as much Thinkering going on as such as I would need what all to find were they all up and are at without a heads up, you know? Anyway, nice beating you, hope you feel better soon. Subjugglator out!"

I pounded a fist on my chest before flashing him a peace sign and wandering out of the building, the normal human staff still cackling madly where I had left them. What even were civillians? If they didn't have powers to harvest, did they even have souls? Not worth my time. Maybe for paint, if I ran low; blood for paint, see how it glistens, whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy-

I cracked my neck back and forth as I stepped out the front doors, the blood spatter on my clothes looking more like tasteful paint stains-just paint, only paint- in the dim street lights. I gave a nod to a few passersby and shifted to my new Breaker state, appreciating the reduced weight and visual footprint even if I wasn't quite an actual shadow. I kicked off the ground, a breeze behind me enough to give me some loft. Time to head to Brockton.

. . .

Getting a ride from a normal was easy enough; once one got tired I could just snap their neck and move on to another. The actual drive was interminable, I stared vacantly out the window and let my thoughts wander, trying to achieve a proper stability while my nostrils filled with the scent of old faux leather and spilled energy drink and my glance nuggets were hypnotized by the flickering light of a sun that didn't sear flesh.

I am the top. The HIGH-BLOODED ONE. Everyone else could only serve as paint or a resource to be harvested for the Dark Carnival. That was… no, not everyone. Some people mattered… No, lots of people mattered… right? Yes… maybe… People with names, of course. Chris, Dennis, Collin, Hanna, Ethan, Taylor, Emma, Lisa, Brian, Thomas, Theo, Kayden, Kenta, Newter, Sherryl… Some of those names mattered in a different way though. Some of those names were delicious little cull-bait pre-corpses, some of them were… not. Some of them could be… friends? Yes. Definitely: to interesting to kill.

Corpses are boring, just lying there all day, putrefying, hello mister coffin-fodder, how do you do, oh not at all? how funny, you neighbor said the same thing…

Normals weren't even worth thinking about, what even were normals? Nothing, less than nothing, not even worth thinking about, so don't. Shouldn't kill heroes either or else Eidolon-the Condescension- OR ELSE EIDOLON would come and put us away for good, somewhere far far away, very boring… Yes. That was why I shouldn't kill heroes. Not because it made me feel a little sick inside, not because it made a heavy dark pit in my chest, not because IT GNAWED AT OUR-MY-OUR SOUL, no, no, no, self-preservation, yes, yes, that's why…

Maybe I felt a little bad about it. But not very!

I made another quick stop in Savanah Georgia, an Alexandria package there did regular meet and greets and from on high a miracle, today was the day and now was the time. My mundane chauffer laughed hysterically as the cape strangled me, and then clapped as I took a bow in my new body and sketched a bird on the wing with the lovely jade blood of my previous host. Felt a teeny bit… not good about it. Maybe. Won't do it again, promise, Mr Man, Mister Alexandrian, as pay back for the RIGHTEOUS CULLING. Last time. Just because he doesn't have a name. Not that I would stop if he did have a name! Why would that matter? I don't care, nope, don't care, haha-FUCKING-HA!

Still not enough for true flight, but his Brute aspect was convenient, distributing kinetic energy over his whole person making him essentially bullet proof, though only a modest strength boost. I had set out in the pre-dawn in Miami, met the Alexandrian at about 10, and planned to stop in Richmond Virginia for an early night. My body was still physically rather young and I needed my sleep, though I was certainly not looking forward to what was certain to be a stressful evening. Unfortunately I couldn't keep powering through on energy drinks forever.

As I twisted the head off of my last driver for the evening-didn't care, nope, not AT ALL- and started doodling idly on the walls of the hotel room; THE ROOM SHIFTED, THE WORLD TILTED, MIRACULOUS EQUILIBRIUM WAS LOST; it occurred to me that I should probably be more disturbed by all the murder, and I trembled in blank horror as I beheld my bloody hands. I hadn't been a total sociopath in my first life (had I?) but now I seemed to be mostly indifferent to the welfare of my fellow sentient life forms. I tapped a finger on my chin thoughtfully, smearing blood across my makeup. Maybe it was the whole purple blood thing? BLESSED WITH THE HIGHEST BLOOD, WHAT SHOULD I CARE FOR THE FILTH WITH THEIR GUTTER SWILL?

I stared at my bloody finger, the drying blood a sticking tacky stain as it tried to weld my nubs together. So much blood, blood on my clothes, blood on the walls, blood on my face and in my teeth and on my hands and in my eyes andandandandand- Why did I feel so, I shouldn't FEEL SO- Whatwhatwhatwhat-

The voices in the back of my mind were rather unhelpful, there were now enough of them that identifying individual speakers was tiresome. Mostly they were just screaming about one thing or another, nothing important, monsterdemonmurderervillain- who cares, though a few of the villains appeared to be psychotic enough that they were just enjoying the show. But I couldn't, I didn't, I shouldn't-

I SHRUGGED DISMISSIVELY AT THAT TRAIN OF THOUGHT, the world bent, the walls shifted, equilibrium was restored. It didn't really matter why I was so comfortable with the killing since it was undeniably valuable for my growth. As I stepped into a shower to rinse all the days grime and paint off I sighed at the comfortably cool water. Tomorrow I would be in Brockton, just in time for Taylor's fight with Lung. A nice juicy power and the chance to meet the goddess before her rise. Eyes closed in the face of the shower head, I smiled in bloody satisfaction.

. . .

Sleeping was NOT FUN.

~0~o~0~

A/N: This is a repost from a better site again; if you want to read this fic complete with formatting, omake, and nifty shipping graphs, check it out on Sufficient Velocity. This is the New Version of Chapter one Part one. lots of people made good comments about the extremely frantic pace, and how odd the MC's behavior was. Hopefully yall find this more to your liking. I've also tried to work in some more in-story references and explanations of troll culture. As I keep saying: YOU SHOULD NOT NEED TO HAVE READ HOMESTUCK TO ENJOY THIS FIC. Anyway, some stuff is deliberately left obscure, either for you to figure it out yourself or to deliberately generate uncertainty. The one thing i will say is, troll vernacular is simultaneously hyper specific and somewhat arcane. This means that they typically do not use proper nouns to refer to objects, instead they use a short descriptive phase. Strut Pods, for instance, are what they call feet (the things at the ends of your legs, not the unit of measure).

Worm CYOA V3.0 Build:

Points:

+2 Case 53, Alternian Troll: Horns, grey skin, yellow eyes, and purple blood. Plagued by crippling nightmares every time I sleep and prone to fits of homicidal rage unless placated.

+1 Pintsize: 4 sweeps old (9 years)

+1 Without a Map: Miami

+1 Geas: Pretty Pictures (Compulsive need to paint a commemorative picture after each kill using the blood of the victim. Will use my own blood if none is available)

+1 Geas: Put my face on (Must cover face with makeup using a new design every day, seeing my reflection without makeup triggers intense panic attacks)

+4 Wanted: PRT (National), The Teeth (Lethal Intent)

+0 Reincarnation: Totoro Yagata, Purple Blood Troll

Perks:

-3 Special Snowflake (immunity to power altering Trumps), Man of Mystery (immunity to most Thinker powers), Comic Book Pretty (everything aesthetic)

-3 Twins: Butcher; Jailbroken: (I cannot be perma-killed. Whenever I die my consciousness and powers transfer to my killer who rapidly shifts in appearance to match me. If the killer is uncertain, precedence is given to proximity. My personality and powers are dominant, relegating the voice and powers of my host to a weakened position. When my current host dies their appearance shifts back to their own. All previous host's powers and voices transfer with me. Slightly enhanced strength.)

-2 Twins: Cherish (long range emotion manipulation and detection)

-2 RWBY Aura


	2. 1-2

I scowled in violent irritation as I finished assimilating Glory Girl. Irksome child, what's worse she had no respect for her Master power, only her own aggrandizement. I had been trying to keep a low profile on my way into town, but no. Apparently you can't walk around in dark clothes down back alleys in the bad part of town during the middle of the night without being some horrible villain.

-just-opinion-quiet-look-kill-You are a horrible villain! You just killed me for no reason!-

Picking out one voice from the multitude was irritating, but I felt a bit put out that someone had made me mess up my resolution to not kill 'heroes' so quickly, so I made the effort.

 _You Mastered me. What did you think was going to happen, specifically, from blasting some rando with fear_?

jerk-murder-press-than-abomination-I'm a hero! Bad guys are supposed to be afraid of me! You're supposed to, cower in fear of justice, or, whatever. Not head-butt my fist.-

 _Look, Miss 'Glory Girl', I Master people like that all the time. Fear is not heroic. You are not a good person. And now, you're dead because you couldn't keep it in your pants._

She dissolved into incoherent sputtering and faded back into the general milieu, no longer worth my attention. I was grateful for the additional power; enough for true flight, albeit not at particularly high speeds. It was enough though. I just needed a bit of altitude to help me look for Lung and Taylor's battle. I didn't have to wait too long before…

Ahh, fire. And fear lots of fear, and Rage too. I'm going to go out on a limb here…

Lung was visibly wavering by the time I arrived. Taylor was damn efficient, I'll give her that. I landed in front of him and blasted him with pure mindless aggression. The punch took my head clean off, sending it spinning over the edge of the roof. Hope that doesn't traumatize poor Tay-Tay too much. I shook my head to resettle my hood around my horns. Even after so many times in the past few days, absorbing a new body was still a bit of an odd feeling. I looked up at her costume. Dang that really does look pretty villainous. Sick lines though.

"Hey there Insect-sis! Sorry if that freaked you out a bit. Saw you fighting Lung and well, figured a bit of help wouldn't go a miss. Don't worry, I'm fine. See? Not a scratch. Nice to meet you, by the way, I'm Subjugglator. Who might you be?"

Taylor shuffled slightly.

"I don't really have a name yet…"

I gave a thoughtful hum.

"Bug control yeah? Don't want to be too obvious about it… how about Khepri? The scarab that rolls the sun across the sky in Egyptian mythology. Fits okay and doesn't give too much of what that is which your powers are away. Decently heroic too, without being overly pretentious. What do you think?"

She gave an awkward shrug and shuffled slightly.

"It's okay I guess…"

I gave her a consoling smile. Damn I was starting to pity this nerd something fierce.

"You can always change it later, but it's good to have a temporary name at least. I know this one guy got dubbed Chubster on his first night out… oh it seems we have company."

A trio of monstrous hounds landed on the roof across from us. I gave Tattletale a cheery wave, then jerked my head in Tay-Tay's direction. The Undersiders were good for her development, she would not have become all she could be without their aid. Tattletale stared hard at me for a few seconds before wincing in pain and putting a hand to her forehead before turning to Taylor.

"Hey thanks for the save, we heard Lung was after us and it would have been a major bummer to have to fight him. I'm Tattletale by the way. This is my team, the Undersiders. Good to meet you..?"

Taylor had shifted into a more emotionless pose, from what I could tell dumping her emotions into the surrounding swarm of insects which started to jitter slightly. It was definitely a very odd sensation to start feeling a diffuse cloud of apprehension from a bunch of bugs.

"I'm.. Khepri, for now I guess. Haven't quite settled on a name yet, but Subjugglator suggested it as a temporary."

I waved as the teenaged villains shifted their attention to me.

"What is up my miraculous brothers and sisters? Ahh, don't mind me though. I only showed up once Khepri had basically beaten that mofo anyway. My sister of secrets ya'll best not be pushing that psychic chuckle voodoo all up and at me or your heads gonna explode in a miraculous rainbow."

I smiled as I turned away to let them talk a bit more, siphoning a large ball of blood from Glory Girl's headless corpse before flipping it off the roof with a toe and sitting down to begin painting. Taylor and the Undersiders spoke a bit more before they took off at the faint whine of Armsmaster's approaching bike. I heard Taylor shift to stand nearer to me and observe my work, equal measures of disgust and morbid curiosity radiating from her. I smiled up at her as I completed the final stroke of calligraphy.

思

Omo: to think. One of my favorite pieces of kanji and rather applicable to the situation.

"Sorry about this, I know its gross to other people. You know most powers come with some… mental effects yeah? Mine's more like OCD. Some stuff I just gotta do, you dig?"

Armsmaster chose that moment to leap to the roof, quickly surveying the remaining patches of fire before settling on Taylor, only briefly glancing at me before turning his attention to the taller cape.

"Are you going to fight me?"

I rolled my eyes in frustration as Taylor stuttered her response. Honestly, you'd think he'd take the time to build a social program, but I guess that's just a product of the fandom. After pitching the Wards at Khepri, he turned his attention to me as I stood and wiped the remnants of orange blood off on my pants. I felt the jolt of surprise as he recognized my face paint and horns. His halberd whipped from its rest position to point squarely at my chest.

"Subjugglator. You are to stand down immediately and submit yourself for arrest."

Taylor backed up turning her head back and forth between me and the 'hero'. I gave her a smile.

"Don't worry about it arachno-sis. You didn't know. Yeah, I'm kind of a villain? For now? Sorry about that."

I turned to Halbeard.

"Chill out homeslice. I'm not in Brockton for another harvest of souls. I do feel bad about all them guys what were heroes 'n such in Miami. I'm pretty sure I'm biologically incapable of restraining violent impulses on my own self now, though. Need a partner to help me get my miraculous mellow on. Now I'm a bit stronger I'll probably focus my attentions on villains for the most part. Don't want to get a kill order all up and at that what is where I am you know?"

Armsmaster was unamused, but a large blast of apathy had his halberd slipping down slightly before his armor locked up. Anti-Master protocols, but no social algorithm. Poor planning there man.

"I hope you don't hold it against the QA here, she would probably have fought me if she knew what was what. True hero that one. Perceptive. Pragmatic. Powerful. Three P's for a successful cape all up in this miraculous bitch. Anyway, I'll see you around."

I gave Khepri an off handed salute as she began tentatively drawing her swarm together then shifted into my shadow state and floated away into the night, headed in the general direction of the Boat Graveyard, where I felt the fewest emotional signatures.

. . .

SLEEPING WAS not fun.

I was running through patches of darkness, slipping from shadow to shadow away from the burning light, the undead hot on my heels as fatigue dragged at me, the air itself turning to syrup as I ran, ran, ran, but not fast enough, never fast enough, and they caught me and they were ripping at me, and I was drowning, drowning in the rainbow of blood pouring from the sky as they held me down and-

I awoke with a start and a scream on my lips, thrashing wildly for a moment and firing balls of energy in every direction before eventually calming my breathing and climbing on shaky legs from the pile of rags and various soft bits of garbage I had been sleeping in.

I splashed some sea water on my feature plane/face, relishing the salty tang before carefully applying my makeup. A faint rumble of hunger reminded me of my empty belly, but I ignored it, and bent to exerting my Aura.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Splat. Crunch. Crack. Sploosh.

I slumped into a loose seated position and stared vacantly at the shattered remnants of my hand as the bones slowly began to reassemble themselves. Now to meditate.

i was a human, totorox92, a student from earth null, who liked cats and once read a book called worm.

i wAs a tRoLl, ToToRo yAgAtA, a wIgGlEr fRoM AlTeRnIa wHo dIdN'T LiKe tHe wAy tHiNgS WeRe.

I AM TOTORO, THE SUBJUGGLATOR, A TITAN AMONGST THESE MAYFLY MORTALS.

. . .

SLEEPING was not FUN.

I was in the dark, safe for now, but there were things outside, with too many arms and legs that bent the wrong direction, and long sharp claws, and I was alone, and they could _smell_ me, and I couldn't run, and I couldn't hide, and I could feel their breath on my neck-

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Split. Crick. Crunk. Splish.

I used some of the blood to paint on the walls.

i didn't kill because it was wrong, because every life was unique and precious.

i kIlLeD To sUrViVe, AnD FoR PaInT, aNd bEcAuSe iT WaS WhAt i wAs sUpPoSeD To dO.

I DIDN'T KILL HEROES BECAUSE IT WOULD ATTRACT BAD ATTENTION.

. . .

sleeping WAS NOT fun.

My bones ached from lifting, and my feet bled from running, and my hands were sore from crawling, and my lips were chapped from screaming, and my eyes were burning, and my lungs were burning, and my skin was burning, and I was burning, burning, burning for my sins, my sins, my sins-

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Clang. Crang. Crump.

I snarled at the weak metal as it split beneath my strength, rage and despair writ large in the hammer of my fists on floor, on wall on anything-

i had a place, i had a home, i had friends and family and coworkers and pets and dreams.

i hAd a dEsTiNy, I HaD A LuSuS, wHaLe-dAd, AnD An aNcEsToR, tHe aCuLlYtE, aNd a fEw pEoPlE I LiKeD To tAlK To oNlInE.

I HAVE NO ONE, BECAUSE THEY HAVE ALL GONE AWAY, AND NO ONE NEW WILL COME BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO SCARED.

. . .

You are TOTORO, currently a 4 sweep old troll living on EARTH BET. You used to be SOMETHING ELSE, but that version of you WAS WEAK AND POINTLESS AND HAS BEEN DISCARDED. Your interests include ACQUIRING NEW POWERS, small animals of the FELINE PERSUASION, creating EPIC MASTERPIECES from the blood of the fallen, and MAKING NEW FRIENDS. You are somewhat out of sorts because of the MOTHERFUCKING VOICES in your think pan that have been getting louder without something to distract you. You hope to one day FILL ALL OF YOUR ROMANTIC QUADRANTS even though there are no concupiscent drones to cull you for not filling filial pails. You are blessed and cursed in turn with a VAGUE RECOLLECTION OF THE FUTURE and an itch in your aggravation sponge which tells you to CULL ALL OF THE FUCKING FILTH; but you try to ignore that.

Today is the day the Undersiders are supposed to ROB BROCKTON BAY BANK, and you are not sure if that is still going to happen or if you have INTERFERED WITH CANNON.

Either way, you feel you have reached a WORKABLE EQUILIBRIUM.

. . .

I stood from my meditations and watched the sunrise on the day of the bank robbery. Had I changed anything?

The Wards were gathering outside the bank, its windows clouded with Grue's darkness. I approached slowly from a forward angle, ensuring they could see me the entire time. I noticed Gallant flinching as he noticed me, before turning slightly and speaking quickly into his headset. I was tired, and while a fight would have normally cheered me a great deal, I was not in the mood today. I called on the dregs of Glory Girl's aura and broadcast calmness, feeling the spiky darting shifts in the teen's emotions smooth into something still wary, but not actively hostile.

"What's up my miraculous brothers and sister? Stopping a bank robbery huh? Classic."

I pulled a butterfly knife I had taken from some Merchants a while ago out of my jacket pocket and started fiddling with it in agitation. Gallant pulled back, a sick look on his face, but the rest of the Wards just seemed moderately uncomfortable. I frowned slightly, the energy leaving me with the arrival of the wave of their indifference. I dropped to my haunches and started scratching at the ground at my feet.

"Be at chill, hombres. Not here to fight or nothing. Just saying hello, seeing what's up in this bitch."

I rubbed at my forehead, the din of voices in the back of my sponge enough to start giving me a headache with nothing to distract me from them.

"I told Armsie I wouldn't harvest any souls for the Dark Carnival while I was all up an in that what is your city, I don't like lying. Shut up, shut up, shut up, you're dead, what do you care?"

I stabbed viciously at a beetle walking along on the ground.

"Undersiders? Or is it the Travelers? Either way, here's the skinny. Grue makes darkness, doesn't hurt but shuts down sight and hearing and can adversely affect some people's powers. Regent can cause twitches in your limbs, not much but enough to trip you up or throw off your aim so watch for friendly fire. Tattletale is one of the top ten strongest Thinkers on Bet, including the ones you don't know about, super intuition means she has probably figured out the whole costume swap thing. Bitch just makes giant meat tanks for her dogs, but they only obey because they're well trained. Don't hurt the dogs and you could probably recruit her into the Wards, she'd need a lot of therapy though."

Aegis, in Clockbloker's costume nodded at the info. Clockblocker took the opportunity to be flippant.

"I feel like I should be freaking out more about the mass murderer sitting here, but I'm surprisingly okay with it."

Gallant shuddered slightly.

"He's doing something to our emotions, calming us down so we won't want to fight him as much. Don't forget, he killed almost an entire Protectorate team in Miami."

I scowled reproachfully at him for a moment, contrasting the smiling face in my makeup.

"Not like I really wanted to do that. Gotta repay favors. Not a thief. Asked what they wanted, they said mess up the heroes. Heroes didn't want to ask for anything, 'cept for one, asked me not to touch his kid. Didn't want anything from those assholes anyway. Always yelling at me. Monster, demon, murderer. Shut up!"

I slammed a fist on my temple, face pulling into a rictus snarl as I dug my claws into my own pliable flesh. I looked up as the doors of the bank burst open, darkness flooding out. I glanced morosely at the junior heroes again then jumped into the air.

I could feel where the Undersiders were without too much trouble through one sense or another, but I still wasn't certain where Taylor was. I hadn't seen her with the Wards outside, but that might just be because she was still going to Winslow for now. I swooped just under the frame of the doors to land in the main lobby. Grue was just a little ways back from the doors, keeping his darkness flooding out to cover the fleeing hostages and Bitch's dogs charging out. Tattletale was standing with Regent near the vault and Bitch was sitting on one of her dogs watching over the hostages.

No Skitter. No Taylor.

I felt a bit more energy leave me at the sight. I hope I hadn't screwed anything up too bad. Joining the Undersiders wasn't the best thing that could happen to Taylor, but it was far from the worst. I floated back outside, giving Tattletale a dour look while I did. I settled in the air near Vista, watching her weave intricate knots in the topology of the battlefield. Beautiful loops and inversions, enough to make M. C. Escher weep with envy.

"You have Manton limitations yeah? Why not make the most complex-est bits all up in the air overhead, then just divert the mother fuckers into the knots with those bitch tits miracles?"

She seemed surprised at the suggestion, pausing for a moment in her weaving to glance at me.

"That's not a bad idea… It would definitely give me a bit more room to work with, and I wouldn't have to make the traps so fast just sort of pre-prepare them then lead them into it… Hmm."

The battle was going more or less in the Ward's favor. Bitch was starting to get antsy so I hit her with a massive wave of apathy. She stopped what she was doing absently and just stared at Clockblocker as he ran up and tagged her and the dog she was riding. With their heavy hitter out of the way the Wards had a much easier time of it, though the other two dogs were still a bit of a worry.

I dropped from the air and pulled out my knife scratching at the ground, but my heart wasn't in it. I was hungry and tired and lonely. The initial high of power was starting to wane and without the distraction of murder I was starting to feel the lack of conversation more keenly. I flopped into a little heap near Vista's feet, the voices in my head getting louder and louder with my inactivity. Why wouldn't they just shut up?!

The rage surged through me and I got up on my knees and pulled at the scratches on my face, calling forth a surge of blood. The deep purple dripped forth and bent at my will, spreading across the pavement to form a collage of the faces of the capes THAT I HAD CULLED AS IS MY RIGHT, but they wouldn't STOP TALKING!

They started out calm, but as the piece grew larger their features gradually contorted into scowls and leers, angry and distorted till the last, Lung, was barely human and hardly recognizable. I scowled at the STUPID MOTHERFUCKING FACES and slammed my fists into the pavement again and again, smashing them to pieces, ignoring the sting as the skin on my knuckles tore as my defenses failed. WHY?! I hadn't asked for this, I didn't want his so why-

I didn't even notice I was crying till I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I blinked up in surprise at the touch before turning to follow the limb back to its owner, vision still partially obscured from the lavender excretions of my anguish bladder. Vista was standing behind me, brows furrowed in concern and in her mind the faintest stirrings of… pity? I shuddered slightly and leaned further into the touch. She moved her hand from my shoulder to my back and gave a few tentative rubs.

Ohh my.

I felt the tension bleed out of me, the voices fading back into the dim murmur they usually were and the rage and despair slowly cooling into placid contentment at her touch. As I relaxed she moved slightly closer, and as my eyes began to un-focus she gave me a gentle hug.

I barely noticed but she jumped slightly when I began to emit a soft chirring purr. My mind wandered lazily, absently aware that Vista was saying something to the nearby figures. They weren't important right now. I absently wondered if that was the solution. As a highblood, I needed to be pacified semi regularly. I needed a moirail, a better half to pull me back when I got too crazy, to keep me balanced when things were hectic, to point me in the right direction when I got lost. Humans didn't do Pale Romance, but maybe they could? That thought made me blink and I pulled back slightly from Vista, coming back to my senses. I looked up at the heroic youngster and smiled beatifically.

"Miracles."

The hug I gave her served two purposes; primarily it allowed me to show her how much I appreciated her efforts, but secondly it gave me enough contact to awaken her Aura. She gasped as she began to glow a pale golden yellow and the other Wards rushed to make sure she was okay. As she stared at the fading glow on her hands in confusion I pulled myself heavily to my feet, a large dopey grin on my face.

"Those were some mother fucking serendipitous shoosh-paps. Thanks again. Gave you a little present, should help keep you safe till I see you again."

I shuffled my feet slightly, digging a toe into the rubble from my little tantrum awkwardly before I tentatively reached out and brought one of her hands up, laying a gentle kiss upon it.

"Pale for you."

Suddenly grateful for my face paint as it hid my blazing blush, I darted up into the sky and booked it, pausing only for a moment to shout back at the victorious heroes.

"Visit Winslow! Help Taylor! I'll be back eventually!"

With that parting warning, I fled the city.

I had told Arsemaster I wasn't in Brockton to harvest more capes. That was True. The statement could easily be interpreted as implying I wouldn't kill anyone in Brockton period, which I had held myself to. I told him I felt bad about killing the heroes in Miami and would be focusing my attentions on the villains as much as possible. That was also True.

Telling the truth was good for a number of reasons. First; making deals and bargains requires a minimum level of mutual confidence that the other party will keep their end of the bargain. If you lie too often no one will trust you and compromise becomes impossible. Secondly; I did not lie because the truth is all I need. Needing to make stuff up implies a level of insufficiency in oneself; I was secure in my own strength, for the most part, so lying couldn't serve me any better than telling the truth would anyway.

However, neither of my statements to Halbeard excluded to possibility of manipulating heroes in other cities so long as I didn't kill them, and neither prohibited me from killing more villains. I was growing a bit restless without a few new powers to test, so I had set out from Brockton to find some fresh cull-bait. Getting the powers from heroes was right out, for multiple reasons, and many villains would be problematic. At the same time, I did kind of want to have done something to make Vista happy, which meant exterminating some villains no one would miss.

All of which summed to my current situation. Namely, slaughtering The Fallen in their West Virginia enclave. Their powers were generally mediocre, but they had enough variety of Master and Stranger that I could build up a decent addition to my current abilities. The various random accessory abilities on offer weren't too shabby either. I had opted for a more combat directed approach against the cultists. While simply manipulating my opponents to kill me one at a time was certainly efficient, the low quality of the powers I was collecting combined with their relative quantity made me unconcerned with efficiency and more focused on getting some fighting experience. It helped that several of them were resistant to my emotion manipulation to begin with, but not enough to save them.

I had 'requisitioned' several dozen hand guns from a small PRT/Protectorate base in Charlottesville and dropped and scattered them around the Fallen's little enclave before modulating Glory Girl's emotion radiation (which I was coming to prefer due to its milder and less targeted effect) with anger and hatred. Not enough to throw the little miscreants into a psychotic frothing fury or anything, but enough to make them more willing to resort to lethal force then they would have been had they been in their right minds.

I flipped over another clumsy charge and nimbly sidestepped a Stranger who suddenly popped into my awareness only a few feet away me, snagging his crowbar out of the air as my foot met his face and it tumbled from his grasp. A tap to the back of his neck and a spike of blood popped through his spine, dispersing rapidly into scattered drops as it left my range of control. I was trying to turn it into a non-lethal takedown method, just paralyzing the target rather than effectively decapitating them, but I had yet to perfect the amount of force necessary to execute the maneuver flawlessly. As it was, the Stranger merely staggered for a moment before picking up one of the firearms lying on the ground near him and shooting me in the face as I considerately held still for him.

I dropped the gun and rubbed a hand along the back of my neck to wipe of some of the remaining blood. These guys were such idiots. I had no idea why they hadn't all been wiped out long ago. Not like they were going to help in Endbringer fights, I thought with a snort of derision, an absent wave of my hand throwing an unpowered hanger on through a wall with a concussive blast.

Hmm, maybe Cauldron shenanigans? It felt lazy to just blame everything on PtV and random Contessa meddling, but I couldn't rule out the possibility.

As I pondered, idly flipping the gun around my fingers, a massive wave of sound hit me, hurling me against a nearby wall and then intensifying to a narrow beam that liquefied a hole right through my torso. I blinked and lowered my hand from where it had been pointed at the Stranger's corpse.

Or, I guess they had a decently powerful bud off of Screamer from way back in the day. I cocked my head slightly as the information from the new power trickled in. Hmm, definitely not quite as powerful as what the former member of the Slaughter House 9 had, I could only hear out to about a 100 meters with any clarity, and even that was a bit muffled. The sound manipulation was also way less subtle, almost a Blaster power rather than a Shaker really, and now weak enough that I would really only be able to blow out someone's eardrums. I shrugged in ambivalence. Oh well. Another bit of Thinker was always a help, not my fault if the previous owner was a doomsday douche nozzle.

I took a moment to just let my senses float outward, slowly scanning over the entire compound looking for more targets. No one else stepped up to the plate; I guess that meant I was nearly done here.

I started hauling the corpses together into a neat pile. Having culled so many at once would require a commensurately elaborate commemorative piece. A few absent waves of my hand sent thin blades of air into the pile, the flesh juddering at the impact and releasing torrents of fresh paint.

A swooping curve here, a trailing spiral there… I began to hum cheerfully to myself as I worked, nearly skipping as I wove the lines of color over and under and around.

The voices were all back down to a gentle murmur, not silent by any stretch, but more like a crowded room heard through a thick wall. If I leant in close I could almost hear what they were saying, nearly make out individual voices, but if I didn't it was just a muffled babble. Well, not entirely muffled, I could pick out enough to understand that virtually all of my older companions were screaming themselves hoarse at the new additions. Nobody likes a doomsday cultist, after all.

I couldn't quite restrain a giggle, bubbling forth from my squawk blister as I thought back to Vista, dear Vista, so sweet, so kind. Ohh, the things we can be, thee and me, precious Vista, little Missy. Ah, no she doesn't like to be called little, does she. That's alright. It's an excellent match, Serendipitous, written in the stars themselves.

Just like that movie I watched once, Whale-Dad thought it was silly, but he's a whale so what does he know about romance? What was it called? Something like _: In Which A High Blooded Subjugglator Becomes Over Enraged By The Rebellious Tendencies Of The Local Rust Blooded Village Which Provides Food For The Temple And Begins To Cull Indiscriminately Until A Pure And Honest Jade Blood Who Serves In The Temple Manages To Placate Him Whilst Simultaneously Learning To Embrace Her Own Black Tendencies Which She Had Been Suppressing Out Of A Mistaken Belief That She Would Be Considered Indecorous In Her Aspirations By The Local Nobility And Together They Cull The Rebel Leader And Restore Order To The Village Whilst Simultaneously Awakening Her Caliginous Relationship With A Hard Done By Yellow Blood That Had Been Imprisoned For His Unusual Psychic Abilities To Be Used As A Weapon For The Rebellion And Thus Prevented From Taking His Rightful Place As A Helmsman_. Or something like that, I've never been very good at remembering the full names of movies.

Me and Vista would be just like the Heroic Subjugglator, bravely squishing the rebels beneath his iron boots, and the softly vicious Temple Maiden. Whale-Dad had thought the shooshing scenes were too graphically pale, but honestly they were very tastefully done. They didn't even show anything too pitiable, just did the whole fade to black thing before the Jade blood washed the Purple's wounds, and picked up afterwards with him gently drying her hands whilst all patched up with bandages. Triumph of cinematic storytelling. I think it was inspired by a true story from just a bit before the Summoner's rebellion as well, so it was basically as good as watching a documentary.

I finished my mural, what had started as a simple crowd of stupid Fallen being crushed had been influenced by my train of thought; they were now wailing under the heel of a tall and majestic troll with a cool and collected smirk and horns that bore a striking resemblance to my own, purely by coincidence, while at his side stood a girl in a dress, a visor obscuring her face as she gazed up at him with tender amusement, ready to burst his bubble if he got to full of himself.

Ahh pity, is there anything better? Besides hatred, of course, but whatever. I clapped my hands together, brushing off the dried flakes of blood and glancing around quickly to be sure I hadn't missed anything before I departed.

Time to visit daddy Butcher in Boston.

~0~o~0~

A/N: And chapter one part 2. Troll movie titles are as hyper specific as the rest of their vernacular, in particular since they have been producing cinema for like 40,000 years they have used up all the short movie titles.


	3. 1-3 Vista

Missy is not sure what to think about Subjugglator (and isn't that name a mouthful? She resolved to call him Jug). He seemed kind of nice? When they met outside the bank, she had felt a fair bit of pity for him through the slight fuzz he had put on all of them. He was only a little kid, way too young to have such awful powers. She didn't know what to do. Dean was useless, he couldn't get over Glory Girl (serves her right the trollop, 'oh let me just use my rage and terror aura on some random person, there's no way that could go bad for me') and whenever she tried to raise the subject with him he deflected or just got angry.

Missy wasn't looking forward to telling Jug that she was crushing on Dean. The little Case 53 seemed kind of taken with her, if she did say so herself. She had to stay in M/S containment, but after she got out it was readily apparent he had given her at least a minor Brute rating, which completely upturned all their expectations about someone who was apparently an unrepentant villain. Or… maybe? His conversation with Armsmaster had been part of their briefing when Jug had arrived in the Bay, and certainly the boy's conduct around the Wards at the bank robbery was not in line with some crazed Butcher variant who just wanted to collect powers.

Ugh! Why did this have to be so confusing? It would be a lot easier if Jug would just do one thing. If he was totally crazy, cool, Birdcage ASAP. If he was sane but an unrepentant villain, ditto. If he was recoverably crazy, get him into the Wards (PR would be a nightmare, but someone who could just hand out Brute 2 ratings? Oh yeah, they wanted him in the Wards). If he was being slowly driven insane by all the Butcher voices (even though most of them were probably heroes? And assimilated close enough together they shouldn't have had time, really…) then get him probationary status, pump up as many valuable heroes as possible and then Birdcage him, or whatever.

But, current reports had him completely exterminating the Fallen, which Missy felt a little bit bad about, but not very, since those wierdoes were basically a plague on society (she felt bad because she should feel bad, but didn't, and if that wasn't Jug in a nutshell). Supposedly he had actually killed the real Butcher up in Boston too, and that was throwing all the Thinkers into a panic because they had no idea how two capes with such similar powers would affect each other.

Current opinion on PHO and within the Protectorate was pretty muddled. Most were firmly of the opinion that Jug was a villain, but the recommended strategies to deal with him went all over the place from there. He had killed a bunch of heroes so that was bad. He had killed a bunch of villains so that was… sort of good, but not really. He was apparently mostly immune to the insanity caused by the extra voices (though there was a little debate on that front), which was good (according to some people, because it meant he could be reasoned with) and bad (according to others, because it meant he wouldn't be content to just sit and rule one gang like the old Butchers had been). The most popular proposal was to throw the little guy at every S-Class threat around, since the Case 53 could generally be relied upon not to actively hunt heroes, apparently (he had just flipped off a bunch of the Protectorate in Boston instead of killing everyone), but the problem with that was then they would have a Butcher with all the power (even if watered down a bit) of people like the Blasphemies, Nilbog and Ashbeast wandering around, which… no one really had a solution to.

It was a bit like, Missy mused, running into a young Fairy Queen, before she had gone totally nuts. Yeah, she could be a great hero, but with a power which almost exclusively centered on the death of other capes finding really heroic outlets was a pickle. The PRT and Protectorate had a policy of leaving their enemies alive as much as possible, and for good reason, they could use all the warm bodies they had for Endbringer fights. Beyond that, killing villains increased the likely hood that villains would try to kill you; keeping the stakes low was best for everyone.

That…. wasn't really as much of an issue with Jug around? It wasn't like just throwing more warm bodies at Behemoth was going to stop him from blowing up a nuclear power plant or whatever, the best ideas for really hurting the monsters all centered around power synergies, and that was something Jug could definitely provide. Their wasn't as much data on the Butcher's powers as would be preferable in this sort of situation, no one knew what would happened if an Endbringer killed one, for instance. Leading theory was that they would just move to possess the nearest living cape in that scenario, but nothing was certain with the Endbringers. At any rate, all the powers of all the capes Jug killed were still around; they might get a bit weaker (and what would that mean now that he had killed the other Butcher?) but they were still there, still available to be used in a fight. And Missy really couldn't see Jug turning down a chance to wail on an Endbringer… And if Jug was the one killing the villains and the Protectorate was just a little slow to stop him… then they couldn't really blame the heroes… UGH!

She paced back and forth across the common room, stretching her power a bit to give her paths that appeared to go up walls and across ceilings, muttering to herself as she pondered. There were villains with kill-orders, of course, like the Slaughterhouse 9, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to fill his head with those sorts of people. That was what several of the proposals hinged on, really, exactly how much influence the voices of Jug's 'victims' (if you could call someone who had just murdered you your 'victim') had on him. Missy frowned in concentration, chewing on her lower lip absently as she thought. She had given a full report after the Bank incident of course, everyone had, but she had been the one to interact most closely with the little guy so she had been the most tightly questioned.

He had definitely been hearing things, he had yelled at 'the stupid voices' a couple times, she remembered. He had also made that rather beautiful, and very depressing painting of all their faces. She shuddered a little bit. The first few had been nice but they got meaner as Jug had continued. But then, she had touched him and it was like, he just… stopped listening to them. Totally calm. Kind of weirdly so, actually, she had just sort of patted him on the head a little and he flopped over like a fat cat with a ball of catnip. She giggled a little bit at the thought, but quickly quieted when she noticed the morose glance Dean gave her.

That was the other thing, the thing he said before he left, 'pale for you', what did it mean? She was reasonably confident it was something along the lines of 'I have a crush on you', which seemed likely based on the way he had acted, a bit shy, a bit embarrassed, but if he meant that, why hadn't he said that? Jug did not strike her as the sort of person who did things for no reason. He might be confusing, and the reason might not always be obvious, but there always had to be one. The paintings he had left in his wake were definitely methodical enough to support that. And his conversation with Armsmaster, 'I'm incapable of restraining violent impulses' (that made sense, most powers had some major hangups (it also showed a pretty high level of self-awareness if he recognized it too)) and then at the bank 'I don't like lying' and 'gotta repay favors' that seemed to imply he had some sort of OCD.

Missy's gaze swept over the corner in which the newest Ward was sitting somewhat nervously. Taylor was a very sweet girl, and she had talked to Jug a fair bit too, backing up the OCD theory with what the Proto-Butcher had said about his rather grisly (but pretty) paintings. He had even sent them to find her, his final shouted warning as he left the Bay. Why was she special? Jug seemed to think she would make a great hero, and Missy could see that, Taylor's powers were very good at crowd control and situational awareness. They had gone on a few practice patrols together, and combined with Missy's ability to get around the city quickly they had been an extremely effective team at stopping lower level crime.

Fortunately they hadn't encountered any villainous parahumans. The whole city was still in a bit off turmoil with the death of Lung; powerlines were being redrawn and a new status quo was forming. For the most part it seemed the ABB and the Merchants were banding together to fend off the Empire, but they had significantly fewer capes than the white supremacists so who knows how long that would last. Nearly everyone was just waiting to see what would happen when Jug got back. Would he keep his word to Armsmaster? Would a villain from the E88 sacrifice themselves to get one of his 'deals' and force him to join? Would he have been driven un-recoverably crazy by the Butcher?

Several heroes and a couple Wards had been transferred over. Weld from Boston, and Flechette from New York were the only two she had really gotten the chance to talk too, all the adult heroes were pulling triple shifts to make sure the Protectorate presence was felt throughout the city. Missy… wasn't sure if it was enough. The number of attacks on minorities had gone up in almost every neighborhood. There were rumors that the ABB had gotten some crazy Tinker just before Lung got got and unknown Tinkers were a massive concern. No one wanted another String Theory walking around.

Her musings were finally interrupted when the door burst open, Assault standing in the light from the hallway with a more serious expression than she had ever seen before. He surveyed the room quickly before settling on her.

"He's back. He wants to talk to you."

. . .

Jug looked very small sitting in the interrogation room with Brute grade handcuffs securing him to the table. Missy was behind the mirrored glass, but the minute she had entered the control room the boy had looked up with a smile on his face and given her a little wave. She gave a tentative wave back, but he didn't seem to notice very much, just rocking slightly in the chair and humming to himself.

"You do not have to go in there. We have enough evidence for a clean conviction and Wards are not obligated to participate in these sorts of engagements, especially considering your… previous encounters."

The young Ward just frowned up at Armsmaster's impassive face.

"He's a _kid_. A _little_ kid. He never tried to hurt any of the heroes in Brockton, and he had lots of opportunities. I want to talk to him."

The Tinker frowned slightly under his visor.

"Very well."

The way the Case 53's face lit up when she walked in was very sweet. She gave him a little wave as she settled in the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Hey Jug- er, Subjugglator."

The boy tilted his head slightly in confusion, the paint on his face stretching oddly at the expression, before he smiled broadly again, pointy buck teeth on proud display.

"Ah, nah, I get it. Subjugglator is kind of long, sorry about that. My home culture had a thing about names. You can call me Totoro, if you want. That's what I was all up an called by before… I was here."

"Totoro. That's a nice name. You can call me Missy, if you like."

Armsmaster hissed in her ear, but she ignored him. The smile Totoro gave her lit up the room, and she couldn't help smiling back as the warmth filled her. The other cape startled a bit though and gave her an apologetic look as the mild joy left her.

"Sorry about that, some of the powers I accumulated are kind of… instinctive."

Missy blinked at the admission, before realizing what had happened.

"Oh, was that, um, Glory Girl's aura? Thanks for saying something. She would have just blasted everyone and not cared."

Totoro frowned at that.

"That's not very nice."

Missy shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Well, you know, you've done some not very nice things too."

His face crumpled, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. They traced faintly purple streaks down his cheeks as they finally spilled over.

"Oh, no, hey, it's okay. Just, don't do it again okay?"

The little cape sniffled slightly then nodded, wiping some of the tears away with a shoulder and smearing his makeup. Missy sighed in exasperation, then grabbed a tissue from the box near the wall and wiped up some of the remaining liquid. As she gently patted Totoro's cheeks he began to hum in contentment, his eyes drifting closed. The Shaker smiled in puzzled exasperation and carded her hand through his messy hair, and the boy quickly subsided into soft purring. It was sort of an odd sound actually, like a cricket the size of a car or something. It wasn't really a purr proper, but it was still nice. Purple eyes blinked up at her lazily as he set his head down on the table.

"'kay. I wont do it again."

Missy raised her eyebrows.

"You promise?"

"On my blood, my caste and my sign. Should I break this vow, may the mirthful messiahs forever cast me from their dark carnival."

A pointed, yellow nail bit gently into the meat of his thumb and a drop of grape swelled there, held out for her to see.

"Okay. You promised. Don't forget."

A fuzzy head was shaken in acknowledgment.

"Won't forget. Can't forget. Never forget anything."

Vista paused in her petting.

"Do you really remember everything? Most Case 53s don't have many memories."

"I'm not really a Case 53, technically. I was hatched this way, egg, to grub, to my own wiggler self. Can't wait till I hit my adult instars. Shits gonna be huge. Grand Highblood was like, 3 meters tall, though the High Acullyte was only 2.8, and I'm pretty sure he's my ancestor…. Massive mutha fuka."

Missy stopped petting entirely.

"Hatched? Like from an egg?"

Totoro slumped back in his chair, totally boneless, but with a resigned expression on his face.

"Yeah. I'm not human. My species are known as Trolls. Homeplanet was Alternia. Shitty place. Sun was dying, red giant, it was too hot to go outside during the day, needed two moons to see by. Not like this place. Damn is your planet nice. Really good temperature here too, not much for water personally, but this wind is tight. Reminds me of my old hive, I found this bitchin old temple kind of near the sea, got miraculous breezes off the ocean. Wale-dad liked it too."

The youngest Ward rubbed a hand over her forehead. What the actual fuck? You know what, who cares. Moving on.

"Okay, that's cool, you'll have to tell me more sometime. I guess the next question is, do you want to join the Wards? Actually," She raised a hand to the earbud where Armsmaster had been replaced by Miss Militia after the Tinker started babbling incoherently, "The next question is, can we trust you not to kill any more people? That's kind of the big thing, if you want to become a Ward."

Shoulders enfolded in baggy layers of hoody shrugged.

"Yeah? Well. Yeah. I mean, I don't really like culling, it's just, you know. That what is expected of me? But, I think you mean, like, can you trust me yeah? You don't have to worry none, I can hear them what's that I've culled, but that's all. They aren't too loud most of the time neither, less I don't have anything to take my mind off the mutters. But if I have um…" He squirmed in his chair in embarrassment and gave Missy a look out of the corner of his eye, "someone around to, you know, um shoosh me, every once in a while, or something in particular to focus on, then I can what all is ignore them. I made a promise to you too."

He frowned a little in obvious annoyance.

"I guess we should formalize that bitch up a bit huh."

Totoro straightened up in his chair.

"All things must be in balance, so sayeth the Messiahs. You said I can't all up and cull any of them pre-corpses no more. So, something must be given what is in return. Um, I would say your hand in moiralegance, but that would be… fuckin… blasphemy against what all is natural and serendipitous. So, um. Could I cull villains, maybe?"

Missy pressed a finger to her ear and held up a hand as Miss Militia conferenced with some of the higher ups. It took a few minutes for them to come to a decision, Totoro shuffling slightly in his seat the whole time.

"Okay, so. Here's what the deal is going to be. Tell me if you don't understand something, or need clarification, okay? First, you are not to… cull… any member of the Protectorate, Wards, or any affiliated hero group such as the Guild or New Wave, or any civilians. Second, you are to empower as many people as possible with that Brute thing you gave me; Leviathan is anticipated in just a month or two so we really need the help. Third, you are not to cull any villains except when it is the only option to preserve the lives of civilians or Heroes, except in instances in which the villain already has a kill-order. If you abide by these rules, you will be provided transportation to the location of Ashbeast and the Three Blasphemies. Is this acceptable."

Subjuggalator gazed at her placidly for a moment then held out his hands palm up.

"This I so swear, till you release me from the vow."

. . .

"So that's it? We're just going to let a murderer onto the team?"

Vista frowned at Gallant over Totoro's head as they sat on the couch. The troll was almost napping, completely zonked out with his fuzzy mop of hair nearly brushing Missy's chin as he lay his head in her lap.

"He promised not to do it again. I know you liked Glory Girl, but she shouldn't have been using her aura so much. Jug did what any of us would do if we were ambushed in the middle of the night by someone blasting us with a terror inducing Master effect; he fought back. She lost."

Dean almost screamed in frustration, fingers curling into tight fists.

"He's a Master too! How are we even having this conversation?! He should be in prison on the way to the Birdcage."

Jug yawned hugely, exposing a mouth full of fangs. The new youngest Ward blinked blearily up at the team's other Master.

"I'm sorry I culled your matesprit, if you wana try out something pitch just give me a holler, I'll come running. Might not be the healthiest basis for a caliginous romance though…"

Gallant pointed a finger at Jug and barely restrained himself from bellowing.

"Stop pretending to be an alien! You're just a Case 53 with delusions! There are no aliens, you aren't a different species, and all this crap you've made up is just that, crap!"

"Armsmaster thinks he's telling the truth."

Kid Win had been sitting quietly in the corner watching the argument unfold. The Ward's main Tinker had been keeping out of the discussion for the most part, having no strong opinions one way or the other. Like most of the younger heroes he was reluctant to work with a known murderer, however the revelation of Sophia's actions after becoming a Ward had given many of the Brockton team a more cynical outlook. At least Subjuggalator wasn't denying anything, and he was actively trying to reform too; he had already given his Brute thing, 'Aura', to all the older heroes.

"Armsmater could be wrong! That, thing, is blocking all of the other Thinkers, even me, we can't _know_ that he's telling the truth!"

Jug sighed and muttered something unflattering.

"He even speaks English! He isn't even trying to act like an actual alien!"

The little troll raised a hand.

"Technically, my universe came first, sort of, so, _you_ speak Alternian. My planet has had a unified language for like, 25,000 sweeps, uh… 54,000 years. That we speak a similar language is a product of ontological paradoxes. Your reality, and mine, couldn't exist unless we could communicate easily. _Written_ Alternian is way different though. Unless you think I made up an entirely different language?"

Gallant actually did scream a bit then, before stalking out of the room, hands thrown up in exasperated outrage. Weld, who had been sitting in a corner watching the Brockton natives argue, finally asked what had clearly been on his mind for a while.

"Do you have the mark?"

"What the C thing? No. Again, not an actual Case 53."

The metal boy leaned in, curiosity on his face.

"But you know about it? How? It's a C? Most opinion is in favor of a U, or a stylized Omega."

Jug shook his head vigorously, and sat up a bit, still leaning heavily on Missy's shoulder.

"I'm not saying anything else on that one Bro-tanium. I might be technically immortal, but that doesn't mean there aren't things I'm afraid of. Thems whats mades youse and your kin is just about the only one. That and Her Imperious Condescension of course, may all the riches fill her coffers."

Weld seemed a bit put out and leaned back in his chair with a resigned sigh. Felchette, on the other hand, seemed interested.

"Your society is Matriarchal then?"

Jug waffled his hand before shrugging.

"More out of practicality than cultural reasons, we don't do gender the same way that what is as humans do. The Condesce is the head because she's the most powerful, and the oldest. Tippy top of the hemospectrum, got that sweet Tyrian purple running through her veins. Trolls don't really get along very well, before she conquered the planet we were pretty tribal. That was about 30,000 sweeps ago, though, so she basically _made_ modern troll culture. Since then she's spent most of her time off world. Need an outlet for all that genetic rage, so we were doing a pretty miraculous job of conquering the galaxy."

Clockblocker finally couldn't help himself anymore.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get, aliens, spaceships, basically Klingons, yada, yada, yada. What I'm concerned about is what your intentions are towards our little Vista young man!"

Jug was probably blushing underneath his face paint, judging by the way he squirmed and fiddled with the sleeves of his hoody. He had chosen to go with something as nonthreatening as possible today, just a big smiley face and a couple dots around the eyes, but despite the thick paint Missy was getting pretty good at reading his facial expressions.

"Nothin', untoward Clock-bro. Just, you know, feeling a little pale for the sweet Space-sis. Cant a mutha fucka get his moiralegiance on in peace?"

Carlos rubbed a hand across his forehead and sighed.

"Much as we all appreciate the differences in our cultures, and don't really care very much cause yours sounds pretty awful, that is going to need at least a bit of explanation."

Jug pulled out a piece of paper from nowhere and started to draw.

"Kay, so, human romance is really simple, cause yall only got, like, one quadrant, the flushed quadrant, matespritship. Trolls recognize four distinct types of romance; what Vista and I got going on is the pale quadrant, moirallegiance. I wasn't joking, my species is almost incapable of self-restraint, but we recognize the need for it so we get a moirail, someone who can balance us out, you dig? It's like the human concept of a soulmate, but without anything… reproductive. Think, really-good, super-best-friend-forever, who you are sort of platonically dating, too."

Missy blinked. That was way more permissive than she would have expected of such a violent people. Clockblocker seemed to feel that way too.

"Wait, so does that mean you date four people at the same time?"

"Five, actually, if you've got all your quadrants filled. Ashen romance requires three partners. Technically you could be auspistice in another relationship while being auspisticized yourself, so in theory you could have as many as seven romantic partners, but that's what is generally considered a bit mutha fuckin' gauche. If your auspistice is incapable of what is settling you and the other guy down, but you can settle someone else down? Then your auspistice must be doing kind of a shit job, you dig?"

Missy felt a small weight lift from her shoulders. She could still pursue Dean! Though, that might be kind of awkward, particularly if Jug started going after him for a, what was it, (she leaned over the drawing Totoro had made) kismesis?… Skitter broke up that chain of thought with a somewhat hesitant, but still a bit irritated, interjection.

"I was actually hoping to get away from teenage drama, not square it. Could we do something else? How about Mario Kart, did you have that on your planet?"

Jug nodded happily.

"Yeah, we had games like that. Mostly played online to avoid direct contact and the risks what all is involved with beein' in person like; lots of role playing games too. Comes with the crazy long history. I call Troll Mario!"

Jug was actually pretty terrible at Mario Kart, but he completely destroyed at Mortal Combat, once he got used to the move sets. Apparently it was way more balanced than the troll version where the Condesce always won.

. . .

It was easy to forget about the shadier bits of what Subjugglator had done when he was frowning over hitting a banana peel in Mario Kart, or talking about the intricacies of troll romance with Flechette, who was completely smitten with the concept of dating so many people at once (if the blushes were anything to go by). But, eventually, something had to remind everyone.

A rumbling thud went through the floor, a slight tremor causing the drinks on the coffee table to ripple slightly. A moment later, another shiver, closer this time. Then a third, right on top of them, causing the lights to flicker slightly. Jug had frozen with the first one, which was really the only reason Missy had noticed anything was happening at all; the Rig's force-fields were very good at keeping the base protected from external attacks.

As the trembling faded though, the newest Ward smiled, huge and insane.

"Bakuda!"

"What?"

Carlos was the first to speak up, as unsettled as the rest of the Wards both by the rumbling and by Jug's response to it.

"She was Lung's Tinker, Bomb maker, absolutely crazy. My empathic sense isn't too good, but I think she just hit Brockton General and BBPD HQ, probably the PRT too, and the Rig of course. Oni Lee plus Tinker bombs equals upside-down smiles. Voices in your head can be useful too; lemons, lemonade, etc."

Aegis had a tight frown on his face as he and the rest of the Wards began to suit up, pulling on bits of costumes and attaching masks.

"There's no need to seem pleased about it."

Totoro just shrugged, already in what amounted to his costume.

" 'm not. Not really. I got enough Bio Tinker from Blasto in Boston that I'll probably be assigned to medical aid for the time being, away from the front lines, but I know eventually the death-toll will be high enough that she'll get a kill-order on her ass and then that very fine ass is mine. Hell, she might even be crazy enough to bomb the aid tents when I'm there, win-win. Suicide by Subjugglator. Heh."

Missy felt the earlier buzz of friendship draining away, replaced by melancholy and pity. Jug just, really didn't care very much about most human life. He definitely noticed her mood though, as he turned and held her hands gently for a moment.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I'll try to help as many people as possible, I know it's important to you."

Missy sighed in resignation, as she nodded and gave him a pat on the head.

"I know. I just wish it was important to you."

. . .

There was a brief debate on whether or not Vista should stay with Jug while he worked in the aid tent to keep him on task and mellow, but eventually it was decided that he would be paired with Clockblocker as Missy's talents were better suited to search and rescue. The reasoning was simple, Clock had a non-lethal power that could very easily shut down anything Jug tried to do. Dennis could also help out with triage, keeping the patients stable until Panacea could treat them, while Jug worked on the less immediately life threatening injuries. Gallant insisted on helping as well, he could serve as crowd control and was one of the only capes that could be relied upon both to be resistant to Jug's Master effects, and to notice if he started using them.

Missy did stay with them long enough to see them off, and she caught Panacea giving Jug a very… disturbing look. Maybe putting Jug near Victoria's sister wasn't the best idea, but unfortunately, they didn't have many options.

She and Weaver made a great team, even with all the smoke and fires burning in some areas. Taylor could almost instantly find any living humans in her range using her bugs, and Vista could expand the access paths enough for the aid workers to rush in and pull out the injured. The duo made swift work of several city blocks before Vista's communicator beeped at her.

"Vista, we need you back at the medic tents ASAP, Subjugalator has been involved in an altercation."

Missy fought back the surge of worry she felt at the words. Jug had promised!

She sped back to the aid tents erected around Brockton General, city blocks shrinking into mere steps as she sprinted along the empty streets, once more grateful for the enhancement Jug had given her. It didn't boost her strength quite as much as she might like, but it did give her tons of stamina.

She burst into the canvas structure, just barely out of breath to see Jug backing away from a crazed Panacea, Clcokblocker lying on the floor drooling.

"Jug! Hey!"

He turned to her and waved, a huge smile on his face, and only barely dodged a lunge from the healer, disappearing in a poof of ash and reappearing at Missy's side.

"Jug, what did you do?!"

The little alien looked hurt at her accusation.

"Wasn't nuthin I did! Honest. Oni Lee tried to do that what is a bombing, but I stopped him before anyone could get hurt. Well, Gallant might have lost a leg… but Panacea can grow it back! Then she just got all up an… crazy at me. I didn't do anything!"

"You killed her! I have nothing now!"

Panacea was still trying to get to them but Vista had started enlarging space to put a buffer between them. Jug was tugging on his sleeves nervously.

"I can make her chill out, you have to tell me I can though, palemate. Gallant can confirm, he seen everything what all has been happening all up ins. Once he wakes up…"

Missy gave Totoro a concerned frown, but nodded in agreement after a moment of thought.

Panacea immediately slowed, and then stopped in her reckless charge at the pair of Wards. Jug gave Vista a tentative smile, and she gave him a grudging pat on the head. Panacea slumped to the floor and started to cry.

"Why are you making her sad?!"

"'S not me! I just got rid of the anger, everything else is just her. Not supposed to meddle, I promised! Look, Gallants over there, he'll tell you."

Gallant was indeed lying in a cot on the far side of the tent waving weakly at the duo. Vista and Jug made their way over to him and Jug immediately set to work trying to patch up the hastily bandaged stump of a leg as quickly as he could.

"He's telling the truth, more or less." The reluctance in Dean's voice was clearly audible, and his face was twisted in a grimace of distaste and discomfort as Totoro fiddled with the medical supplies. "Amy has been feeling… muddled all day. She kept getting huge spikes of anger, hate, envy, sadness and… I think it was longing? When she looked at Subjugglator. When Oni Lee showed up, Subjugglator made him focus on himself. Oni Lee had a bomb of some kind, it turned everything to glass, it hit my leg, it killed Subjugglator. Once the freak had finished absorbing the villain, he said something, I don't know what. Panacea just went nuts then. She tagged Clock and knocked him out, then she kept trying to tag Subjugglator. He kept trying to talk her down, and stay out of the way, at least."

Vista looked at Jug, concern replacing the previous anger.

"What did you say?"

Jug rolled his eyes a bit and huffed.

"Lee and Lung had some… heavy pale feelings going on. Sort of. It was like, hella complicated, but I guess it worked for them. They started getting their feelings jam on right inside my think pan! Practically in public. Honestly, have some shame you two." This last seemed to be addressed at his own forehead. "Anyways, told 'em to get a room, they could talk later. Then Panacea had this like, weird emotion thing happen. I… don't know what exactly."

The group turned to Amy, who had finally stopped crying and apathetically tagged Dennis to bring him out of his stupor. She turned to the Wards, mouth sagging and eyes downcast.

"Vicky was the only good thing in my life. Carrol hates me, Mark isn't present even when he's around, the hospital is driving me insane. Vicky made me happy. I… I loved her, okay?"

Jug was frowning in concentration, and muttering under his breath, one half of a conversation. A sudden look of understanding and disgust swept over his features.

"Oh that fukin whore. Glory Girl was basically Mastering her family. Not intentionally, I don't think, she just had absolutely no self-control. More like conditioning, really. What happens when you make everyone around you happy all the time just by being all up an in the same room with them? They want to be around you, they _like_ you, they like _thinking_ about you, eventually. Panacea probably didn't really love her, she was fucking addicted to her."

Panacea shrugged, still looking despondent.

"I thought, if they can talk to each other, I could… be with her again. Forever. And no one would ever have to know, and I wouldn't have to feel bad about not going to the hospital and Carrol wouldn't have to see me again…"

Vista rubbed her face under her visor. This was an epic cluster fuck. At least Oni Lee was dead, the primary delivery mechanism for Bakuda's bombs was eliminated. Dean was facepalming as well, he had mentioned that Amy had weird feelings of jealousy whenever he was with Vicky, now they made sense. Taking a deep breath she turned to the depressed healer.

"Okay, that is not healthy thinking. You need to see a therapist, and you need to see them soon. I can't help you out with the family situation, but it sounds incredibly toxic, so if you apply to the Wards we can almost certainly help you get out of it. DON'T TRY TO KILL YOURSELF. Okay? It would look really bad on Jug's record. As it is; ugh, we really need you right now, Jug can't do all of this by himself, and he isn't as good at it as you are either."

Jug coughed slightly.

"I… may be able to do a bit better. I just… didn't want to, you know. Scare anybody."

A dozen copies of Jug suddenly appeared, spawning a handful of clones and then poofing into ash. The clones worked on whatever was nearby for a moment before collapsing and slowly dissolving into dust, but they could still get a fair bit done in those few moments. The process repeated, cycles of teleport clones spawning dumb clones, all of them eventually crumbling into nothingness. Vista was surprised, but only for a moment. Oni Lee, and… Spree, probably, from the Teeth. A few clones were giving instructions to the attendants, and a few more were writing down furiously on a wall of the tent, apparently drawing out a plan for how to rearrange things to keep the flow of injured as smooth and consistent as possible. The majority were attending to the injured, some using hemokinesis to staunch wounds, some tinkering with bits of chemical solutions, some actually doing a bit of surgery.

The effect on her power was surreal, a strobing stream of blank spots that cycled almost too fast for her to track with her eyes. She turned to Jug who looked a bit sheepish, a hand rubbing at the back of his head.

"Yeah, I kind of have a lot of powers now… I'm not the best healer, especially for this kind of thing. Blasto was more about plants and cloning; I can make Gallant a new leg no problem. Haemorraghia was more self-directed biokinesis, but she helped to amp up what I got from that one Ward in Miami, um Sanguine? Accord was a pretty miraculous Thinker, and a few boosts on top of that from Butcher III and a few of the Fallen… Plus the synergy between Oni lee and Spree, obviously. Pretty stop gap, but, they last long enough…"

Vista tilted her head back, staring at the roof of the tent for a moment as she just let her brain reset from danger mode. She took a deep breath and clapped her hands together a few times, cycling back up from the emotional rollercoaster.

"Okay. Good job Jug. Next time though, you should probably tell someone if you think you can help, then see what they say. We haven't gotten a chance to put you through power testing yet, so this is… to be expected really, but, thank you anyway. Gallant, you shouldn't be moved, so you are staying here for now. Keep people calm if you can. Clock, you aren't really needed quite as much, I guess. Jug can start handling the triage. Panacea, take at least five minutes. Right now. You need to get yourself centered, then you can go back to dealing with ONLY the emergency cases. I need to go back and help out some more with S n R, but once that's done, Jug, I think you will probably get to cull Bakuda. These fatalities are getting ridiculous, and the intel you should have from Oni Lee should help us nail the bitch. Everybody know what they're doing? Then get to it!"

~0~o~0~

And theres chapter two. Reformating this was a pain in the posterior. Dont get yall's hopes up tho, i didn't write either of these today. While i enjoy this story, like most of the stuff i work on new chapters take a long time. Generally about a month at minimum while i accumulate ideas and rough draft it in my head. Chapter 3 wont be too much longer because of that, but chapter 4 is a ways off. This probably wont be a very long fic either, i dont have much planned for a larger arc or anyfin.


	4. 1-4 Assault

Ethan wasn't sure what the word for what he felt about Jug was. For some reason whenever he tried to define the sensation his brain brought up images of church, which made very little sense. He had overheard Totoro talking to Dennis about the religious significance of his clown makeup, but from what he overheard there was very little in common between that and the old school Catholic cathedral that Nana had brought him to when he was a wee lad. If he hadn't misunderstood the little cape, they actually worshiped a type of soft drink.

So why, when he saw those little orange horns wandering past, did his mind conjure images of those old stained glass windows depicting the martyrdom of saints?

He finally figured it out while sitting in a meeting one day, giving a large enough start that Puppy actually looked over at him with concern.

Terror!

That's was the word, terror. Terrible, terrifying, terrific, all that was perfect to describe Subjugglator. Not evil, necessarily, or even truly malicious, but... It was like someone had taken a nuclear bomb and set it down in the center of the base, strapped a big red button on the side of it and then left it there. Sure it wasn't going to go off on accident; you needed to actually push the button first, and no one was going to do that on purpose. It was even useful, the radiation made it a good space heater. But all it took was someone tripping into it and BOOM! No more Brockton Bay, just, poof, cloud of dust, everyone dead, the end.

However it was a little hard to remember that when actually looking at the diminutive clown worshiper. He was just so cute! With his tiny little horns, and the makeup, and how he followed Vista around whenever she was on duty (which was often because they weren't totally sure how long Jug would stay safe without her). Helpful too; Assault had yet to master his Aura enough to manifest a semblance (Armsmaster had, the work obsessed nerd), but it was still nice to have an actual Brute rating to help whenever he was running low on momentum to fling around. That's what the point of this meeting was; Jug had something new to offer.

The image projected on the screen had obviously been subjected to several iterations. Ethan wasn't a Tinker, but he thought some of the elements were reminiscent of Kid Win's work. Messy, but it sort of clicked together.

"Its called a Sylladex. It's a miraculous extra-dimensional storage device. Once you pick it up it syncs to that what is your brainwaves and stores itself outside reality, after that you can all up and put anything you like in it and recall the items at will. It can't be taken from you, and since it responds to your brainwaves strong Master/Stranger effects will prevent it from responding to commands. I cobbled together a pretty basic one, it's not much but..."

The newest Ward demonstrated a few times, pulling out a few small items like pens and pencils from thin air. Armsmaster seemed intrigued.

"How much can it store? Is there a limit?"

Jug spun a smallish metal ball between his hands.

"Yeah, that's kind of the downside. It can hold about twelve items and each item can only weigh a max of maybe 30 kilos? Volume is an issue too; like, around a cubic meter? There's a net weight cap of 200 kilos and a volume cap of about 6 cubic meters... You could probably keep one large and heavy item in it for a little bit? But it would shove everything else out, kind of... vigorously. Safe for live transport at least. No time passage in storage. If I had some help from other Tinkers… Maybe Dragon wouldn't mind?"

Armsmaster seemed intrigued at least, but Assault could see something else was on the kid's mind as he sat fidgeting with a pen. Piggot was attentive enough to notice as well.

"Was there something else Subjugglator?"

The child glanced over at Vista with a bit of apprehension before scratching at the surface of the table a little, obviously uncomfortable.

"Well, the thing that which is I am thinking of, is that, I was supposed to get a chance to harvest the Ashbeast? And the Blasphemies? Right? As part of my joining the Wards. And, I understand if you, like, um, dont have the time. Right now? But I sort of have, an itch? In my thinkpan. That makes it hard to concentrate, just a little, concerning about those circumstances what all I just mentioned."

The table as a whole stiffened slightly and Missy shuffled closer and began rubbing soothing circles on Totoro's back. Assault thought that Jug actually looked sort of embarrassed by the increased attention, and the troll hurried to follow up his statement.

"Not like the itch I get when I'm without Vista's shooshes, just, you know. Like a little… twinge, in my nubs. I get ya'll don't really go in for culling much, which is weird as all hell, but these guys have been gifted with what all is a kill-order, right? Like, everyone has a wicked party once I pull they brains out through their auricular clots. Bad guys."

Assault winced at the explanation and the imagery. It was too easy to forget that Jug had a body count in the double digits when he was abashedly squirming under Vista's over enthusiastic petting and fussing. Sometimes Ethan saw a bit of himself in the troll, the same recovery, adaptation even, to not being a villain. But Madcap had been principled, Ethan had never taken a life in either of his cape careers.

The parallel was further flawed though; from what he could tell Totoro didn't _quite_ fully understand why killing was bad. The Troll could comprehend why the Protectorate was upset when he killed heroes, and stretch his imagination to the sympathy for civilians, but villains? He actually seemed puzzled slightly to find out that Armsmaster wasn't dating Kaiser _and had yet to kill him_. Like the leaving an enemy alive for sloppy makeouts was par for the course, but if you weren't going for that then why bother?

It made a certain sort of sense, Ethan supposed, if you took out all intrinsic human compassion. Which was the problem really; Totoro wasn't human.

But the Protectorate kept its promises so now here they were, in a combat drop capable tinker tech aircraft courtesy of Dragon, nearing the Ash Beast's location.

Subjugglator was nearly bouncing in his seat in anticipation, which was creepy considering he was about to commit something like a murder/suicide.

"Did you do this a lot? Back home, I mean."

The kid looked a little thoughtful.

"Mmm, not really. Had to cull some rust bloods once 'cause they set ghosts on me, annoying fucking things, but if someone like Ash Beast popped up on Alternia? Nah. Too useful. He would have been used as a Helmsman. Well, not literally, but sort of. Ships are pushed by tk or psychokinesis, but a living antimatter furnace would still be useful. Float him in a big ol' reactor chamber and just suck up the extra power. Heh, bit nicer than he'd get as a Helmsman, I suppose: no surgery."

Okay, now Assault was sad he had asked. Thank god no one Bet did stuff like that. Though honestly he wouldn't be too surprised to find out somebody like the Yangban had considered it. Being grafted into a space ship was probably unpleasant in the best of cases; somehow he doubted trolls would use anesthetic.

The voice of their pilot interrupted his morbid train of thought.

"We're approaching the drop zone!"

Assault watched as Jug became still, pausing with eyes closed and an ecstatic expression on his face before standing with startling swiftness to watch out the door of their transport as the burning glow of Ash Beast began to light up the dessert.

The troll looked out with a blossoming smile before throwing his arms out wide and bellowing into the night.

"Let me sing you the song of my people!"

A soft throbbing beat filled the cabin and echoed out into the night air as the little troll began to sway slightly side to side, before opening his mouth to speak into the wind.

"Now let me tell you a story, trifle gory, about blood, my little spud. Yes, like the potato 'cause you sit, can't land a hit, where will you fit, in my brain, reaping powers that's my game, and you call me insane? I'm in pain! Not much 'cause you're low and I'm the highest, I'm not biased, hand to god, or to golyb, either way, you get no say, now that I'm here, you run in fear, just like a startled steer. With Vista as my witness, your on my hitlist, are you with this, cause I'm fittest, it's survival, got no rival, on streets, now filled by gutter filth, yours is spilth, such a start, bent for my art, straight from the heart, 'cause Jug's here for your soul, I'm on a roll, the apex troll, it's time to cull!"

His song concluded Jug leapt from the door of the transport straight for the giant pyre that marked one of the oldest S-class threats in Africa. The walking bonfire staggered for a few moments with the impact of the flying cape, the flame flickering slightly as the source was shifted rapidly around the ground. Quite soon though, the column of flame sputtered and died entirely.

A moment passed and a new, albeit smaller, pyre erupted for a moment, shining brightly against the moon drenched sands, accompanied by a roar of triumph, before winking out once more.

Jug was back in the transport almost instantly, looking inordinately cheerful, though Ethan had to admit it was not entirely undeserved. Ash Beast might not have had as high of a kill count as say, Nilbog, but even one fewer S-class villain walking around was an unambiguous win for the good guys.

"So you can turn it off then? Not going to spontaneously combust on me are you?"

Jug smiled in that dopey way of his, and shook his head.

"Nah man. I got it under control. Ahh... feels good. Motha Fuckin' righteous culling."

Ethan raised an eyebrow under his mask.

"Yeah, I got that impression from your… song? Seriously? The song of your people is rap?"

Jug nodded earnestly.

"You bet. Ancient and noble art of Slam Poetry. Both to demoralize your foes and to improve the morale of your own threshecutioners or cavalreapers or what have you. Less popular in more recent times now that we got all them space ships all up ins; but still a respected tradition amongst high bloods. Mmm. Never been anything what you'd call exceptional at it but I think I did alright. Yeah?"

Assault shrugged apologetically.

"Not really my bailiwick I'm afraid."

Totoro hummed in acknowledgment and adopted the somewhat distant expression Ethan could recognize as someone paying attention to something no one else can see. The Protectorate hero cocked his head and leaned back slightly in his seat, the metal creaking slightly at the movement.

"What's it like having that many voices going off at once? You said it wasn't a problem right? Unless you… drift a bit."

The absent gaze did not refocus, but his companion responded anyway, the words coming slower.

"It was kind of useless before I got Accord, he helps keep things ordered and his power helps me sort through them. Now, it's like a big tent filled with people; if I want to talk to someone in particular I can sort of, walk over to them and chat. But if I don't pay it any mind it just fades into a quite babble, you know. The Dark Carnival. They get louder if I don't have something to pay attention to. It would get… bad, without Vista."

Ethan smirked at the tenderness in Jug's voice as he spoke of his little girlfriend.

"You really love her, don't you."

The younger cape finally rejoined the land of the living and blinked with bemusement at him.

"'S not love. It's Pity. Pale as sugar. Moirail, not Matesprit. Like Miss Militia and Armsmaster. More or less. Eh, humans don't have an analog that captures all of that what is Moirallegiance. It's like, knowing there's someone there who _doesn't_ accept you unconditionally, who will tell you when you need to shape up, and sticks with you anyway, all up and being a completion of the psyche. Balance. Matespritship has more of what that which is you call love. Even that is still technically Pity though. See it's all about vulnerability; Love, as I understand it as you talk of it, is about _giving_ of yourself. Pity is about _allowing_ someone else to _take_ of you, to drink of your soul. The difference is kind of subtle, but it's important."

"I guess I can kind of see that. But you keep saying balance, what does Vista get out of it?"

Jug scratched around the base of a horn idly.

"Well, on a basic level, protection. Sort of, symbiotic all up ins. She keeps me sane, I keep her safe, you grok? But that's really surface stuff. Optimally in a healthy pale relationship both partners get emotional fulfillment as well as all that what is physiological stability. Personally I think she could do to push harder for what she wants. She's really powerful, but she doesn't quite maximize it. Too; she lets others take command when she would be better suited. She's the most experienced Ward, after all. Reasonably she should get to be in charge in the field if nothing else. She defers too much though, let's others take the lead for one reason or another. As her Moirail it's my job to give her a boost to achieving those goals what she has."

Assault rubbed his in chin thoughtfully. Missy was rather competent. She had good synergy with several of her teammates, a sound mind for tactics, and a cool head in combat. She would do well in a position of more responsibility; he'd have to suggest it to Director Piggot when they got back from Europe.

"Pale is actually somewhat similar to Black in that sense."

He glanced down at his companion at the interjection.

"What, the Hatred thing? How?"

"A healthy Kismesitude is about competition, someone whose very existence pushes you to excel so you can show them up. I think I kind of screwed Armsmaster when I culled Lung in that regard."

Ethan felt his mouth drop open.

"Holy crap, you did. Oh wow. I ship it."

Jug smiled back at him bashfully.

"Alright, so that's Pale, Red and Black. There's one more right?"

"Yeah, Ashen. I don't think I'll be able to explain it to your satisfaction though. Humans have literally no thing which all is a similar thing. Not as what I've seen anyway. Umm, imagine the satisfaction of resolving unhealthy contention between two people you find somewhat irritating."

"Well, that sounds-"

"And then imagine that you sort of get off to that."

The older hero snorted with laughter at the non-sequitur.

"Yeah, I don't think we really have anything like that. Heh. Anyway, what else do you do in your spare time?"

A shrug.

"Not much. I'm not really much of a Tinker yet. Don't got enough spread, too watered down. Look at meowbeast photos online. Troll PHO."

Assault snickered.

"Meow- You like cats? You had cats? Always saw you as more of a tarantula kind of guy. Snakes or whatever. Cats? Really?"

"Hey, they're cute. Course we had 'em. Big ones made decent Lussi for middle bloods."

The troll sighed in melancholy.

"You miss your Whale-dad?"

"Yeah, kindof. He was a good custodian you know? He made this grub jelly for Twelfth Perigee's Eve that was just… mmm. So fine. But Whale kind lussi are long lived; he'll find another wiggler to look after in a sweep or two. Whatever. I talk too much. So, you and Battery yeah? Matesprits? Flipped from black to red too, I hear."

"Huh, yeah I suppose you could think of it that way. She really hated me when I was Madcap; she got me good eventually though. Ahh, Puppy is a sweetie though."

Jug looked at Assault with an expression of morbid curiosity.

"Ya'll uh, ya'll gonna make any little wigglers soon?"

Ethan cocked an eyebrow at the apprehensive look Totoro was giving him.

"Not planning on it. Why?"

A soft breath whistled through needle teeth in a sigh.

"Good, that's uh, that's good. I know it's lame to apply culturally biased viewpoints but still, just imagining having a little thing living inside me, wiggling around until it explodes out in a shower of goo is… blegh. I don't know how you guys do it."

The older hero smirked in amusement.

"You'll understand when you're older. It's a miracle of nature. Besides, it's not like you'll have to do the hard work."

The little horns poking through the hood swayed to the side in puzzlement.

"What?"

Assault blinked. Oh. Right.

"Um, I, how does your species reproduce?"

"Eggs. Much tidier."

"Oh. Well, still, same basic principle, you're male so you won't have to lay the eggs."

Now Jug just looked even more confused.

"What does the size of my rumble spheres have to do with anything? I won't have to lay the eggs because that miracle is what all the Mother Grub is for."

Ethan frowned.

"Okay, start from the beginning."

"Kay, let me school feed you on that what is the miracle of concupiscent relationships. When two trolls hate or pity each other very much, the filial drones will come with their filial pails to collect their genetic material, equal from male or female. If the trolls don't hate or pity each other very much, they get culled. Otherwise the filled pails get taken to the Mother Grub who gestates all the genetic material together in one incestous slurry. That material will be used to make eggs which will hatch into wigglers who grow up to be trolls, generally a few billion at a time. Sometimes it will take centuries or millennia for the eggs carrying a particular troll's genetic material to be laid. If you feel a particularly strong connection to a particular ancient troll, you can claim their sign as your own and treat them as your ancestor, modeling your life and behaviour off of theirs. I think my ancestor was probably the High Acullyte, that's why I wear his sign. Can't know for sure though, of course."

Ethan tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully.

"How can you know for sure if you never meet your ancestor?"

Hoodie covered shoulders shrugged ambivalently.

"You can't really. It's mostly popular amongst the nobility 'cause there're fewer of us. Low bloods rarely bother."

A fainting beeping sound echoed from the cockpit.

"We have arrived at your destination."

The wandering S-Class that was the Three Blasphemies was approaching a small town when they arrived. Their transportation came to a halt hovering several kilometers away and Assault turned to Jug with some concern.

"You sure you can handle them? Lots of capes have tried before you, they can't really be killed."

Jug, nodded his head distractedly, a small frown teasing his lips.

"I think I can manage. Only one way to find out."

The painted face turned to Ethan with a touch of nervousness, but smiled anyway as he floated out the door.

"If… give Vista a hug yeah?"

Jug blinked away, landing on the ground before rapidly closing on the Blasphemies. As he arrived before them the women paused, and the Ward cocked his head, mouth moving as if in speech. Ethan picked up one of the Tinker tech binoculars Dragon had left lying around to get a better view. Ooh! Subtitles!

'-wers were a mystery but that you could not die while one still lived. Hmm. Strength. That wicked harshwhimsy to fill a troll with horrorterrors and send grubs screaming for their lussus. Now that strength will be mine. Fill me with those deep dark chucklevoodoos.'

The battle, and it was a battle, was pretty spectacular. Jug had accumulated a broad spread of powers and it showed. Bolts of light might bring concussive shocks or zones of decay or bizarre shifts in momentum. The occasional gouts of fire seared over the Blasphemies as they ripped at the landscape, rending wounds appearing on Jug's clothing for moments before the injuries healed as if they had never been, scales and obsidian stone growing over to cover them. Guns and clubs appeared in Jug's hands as he danced amongst them; amazing trick shots and titanic strikes vanishing only instants after they inflicted what should have been crippling damage, the weapons themselves disintegrating under the onslaught. The women's actions were becoming increasingly erratic, Jug's constant whisperings distorting their perceptions and confusing their plans; random shards of forcefield and pits of inky black stumbled them, and figures of lightning, ash and smoke appeared and disappeared at random but it was very much uncertain who would emerge victorious.

Well, for a little while. Apparently it was a feint from the Blasphemies; Jug dodged in the wrong direction and half his head dissolved into rot in a moment. Assault tsked regretfully. Game, set, match.

The scowling face of the second Blasphemy writhed for a moment before Jug emerged, face split in twain by a massive grin. The other two froze entirely for a moment; simply staring in apparent stunned confusion at Jug's first victory as they waited for their sister to return to them.

An insane cackling echoed loudly enough to be heard even as far away as Ethan's position as Jug hurled himself with renewed vigor at the suddenly disoriented remainder. The attacks from the Blasphemies were less coordinated, less targeted, and Jug pulled back on the offensive, defaulting to trickery and his Master/Stranger repertoire to drive the sisters into apoplectic rage. It was only a matter of moments before another fell, the blank faced mask shifting to grey and white paint. The last was nearly instantaneous, snarl disappearing under a wide, pointy grin.

Assault smiled wryly and hopped out of the open door, falling lightly to his feet as he hit the ground hundreds of feet below and skipping off in the direction of Subjugglator, who was getting very energetic with his painting, thick stripes of purple, and violet splattering the ground to make… a copy of the Mona Lisa with horns? Weird.

"They got some wicked sick powers all up ins. Miraculous strength. Finally got some decent Thinker in here. Sort of, necro-clairvoyance? Some decent precog aspects on it too. Damn fine. Just let me fini- hurk!"

A splatter of blood fell from the Ward's mouth and Assault blinked in surprise alongside the small troll. Another geyser of fluid sprayed forth, and seemed to move with fresh purpose, spreading over the putrefied biomatter and pulling the disparate fragments together into a writhing mass of bone, flesh and blood. Jug clutched at his stomach in obvious pain and Assault prepared to evacuate him in the face of this new threat.

The stew of organic matter finished its transformation, a tall female figure standing over the remains of the Blasphemies, mask a broad and cheerful smile, and long elegant horns rising in gentle curves over her head. Her visible skin was grey, and her luxurious locks were a deep black. Jug blinked at the figure once, twice, before pulling Assault to one knee before the newcomer.

"Your Condescension."

The Protectorate hero's mouth fell open as he stared between the two trolls. The older was obviously inspecting herself, hand twisting in front of her face as she inspected shiny skin for any imperfection. Satisfied, she turned towards the kneeling figures before her.

"The Heiress, actually." A claw pricked a finger, revealing bright fuscia blood.

Jug nodded in acknowledgment, eyes raising a hair from the ground.

"As you say. Heiress; what command for your Subjugglator?"

The figure turned away and began to walk in the general direction of the town, a hand waving in dismissal.

"Don't give a carp. Got shit to do. Don't be a basshole? Whatever. I want some food, cod damn I'm hungry…"

Ethan brought a hand to his face, fingers attempting to rub his temples through his mask.

"Did you just resurrect the insane, murderous, shiny object obsessed, conquest machine that you described as a combination of Alexandria and the Fairy Queen?"

Jug scratched at the back of his head, edges of his mouth pulled down in a nervous grimace as he chewed gently on his lower lip.

"Maybe? I… don't think so. I think this is the Heiress. She was… weird. She actually wanted to redefine 'cull' to mean adopt and coddle. Flighty Broad. Probably the same powerset, but… nicer? She was a little bit of a fussy bitch, last I heard. Um. We should go now."

Assault could only shake his head in exhaustion. It had been a long day.

They both boarded the transport and readied to depart back to the states, when Assault noted something. Their projected flight path actually took them right over large portions of Germany, rather near to a few of the smaller Gesellschaft encampments.

He rubbed the small amount of stubble on his chin thoughtfully. Jug had been a good boy recently...

~0~o~0~

A/N: So, this chapter isn't quite what I wanted the next chapter to be, but then I was thinking about how to order them on the timeline and... yeah, the 'next' chapter works better if it came after this one so...

Anyway, if anyone wants to suggest some OC capes, Jug can cull them as he visits a small Gesselshacft camp. Remember they tend to make Brutes, Masters. Movers, Strangers and Changers rather than the better types of cape like Tinkers and Thinkers and Trumps, however as second gen capes they might have some trumpy aspects of more versatility than the average bear.

Oh, also, the way resurrecting the Condescension worked is thus: The third blasphemy's power is a sort of necrokinesis that works offensively as a shaker ability and defensively like a brute ability, decomposing dead things around them and using that material to rebuild their bodies. The defensive aspect is automatic, and once Jug got all three of them it tried to 'rebuild' a sort of hybrid copy of Jug/Jug's thoughts and the original female template but because its weaker we got just one instead of two, and because of the template conflict we got a female instead of a male version of Jug, with some interference from the rest of his shards as well. Thus, the Condescension. Who will probably just chill in Europe for the rest of time.


	5. PHO Interlude 1

PHO Interlude

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Topic: New villain in Miami

In: Boards ► US ► East Coast ► Florida ► Miami ► Capes

Moloch_the_Magnificent (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know)

Posted on April 9, 2011:

Okay, got some very sad news recently from my friends in the local PRT.

Last night at around 2 am most of the Miami Protectorate and Wards were murdered by a new villain going by Subjugglator.

Apparently he's some kind of high level Master/Stranger; he walked in for 'Power Testing' and then managed to sucker in everyone currently on base to the testing chamber to murder them one by one. The only survivors of the Miami Protectorate are Laser Lad, Scram, Pillar, and Boulder. Laser Lad, Scram and Pillar only made it because they were on patrol at the time. Boulder is still in critical condition, apparently his body was smashed to pieces but Subjugglator didn't want to waste time killing him. Odds are the Hero was immune to the Master effect, as he has demonstrated such an immunity in the past (he's a Case 53 made of rock, for those who don't know).

No word yet on if the PRT has any leads or if a Kill-order has been issued for Subjugglator; they're going to be doing a press release later today.

(Showing Page 2 of 4)

► Jerry Germane

Replied on April 9, 2011:

Wait, how do they know this guys name? He was in and out, yeah?

► Optical Delusion (Unverified Cape)

Replied on April 9, 2011:

That's a good question. He didn't kill everyone on base, after all. Just the capes. I have a friend who knows the girl who was on the fornt desk, she said she just couldn't stop laughing the whole time Subjugglator was there. (also, what is with that name? Does this guy just not know how to spell?)

► Utopianist (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on April 9, 2011:

Alright, since the press release is under way, I have been cleared to answer some questions.

Firstly, we know Subjugglator's name because he signed his 'art work'. He left a rather gruesome scene in the power testing room. We aren't sure what happened exactly, but it looks like something he did changed the color of his victim's blood. May be a sign of some sort of parasite type Stranger power. Before you all start going nuts about it, the blood was *very* abnormally colored; the closest to human normal was a sort of brownish/rust red. So far we have logged two different shades of blue, a bright green, and a yellow.

Do not go around stabbing your friends on the off chance they might be getting Strangered! The blood is very obviously not human normal.

For those of you offering best wishes for Boulder, he should be recovered pretty soon, he can't be put down that easily.

This is not the end of the Miami Protectorate. Even with only four members we will stand strong to protect the people.

We are going to catch this guy, and he is going to the Birdcage.

► Orion's Pants (Cape Son)

Replied on April 9, 2011:

Screw the Birdcage, why isn't this guy getting a kill order?

► Moloch_the_Magnificent (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know)

Replied on April 9, 2011:

I've seen some of the footage. Subjugglator can't be more than 10 years old. He looks like a Case 53 too, he might not be able to control his powers or something like that. We'll have to see what they say at his trial once they catch him.

► Houston's Solution

Replied on April 9, 2011:

Why is nobody mentioning the other deaths? Subjugglator killed all the heroes he could at the Protectorate base, yeah, but weren't Pocket and Mudkip out on patrol too? What happened to them?

► Terminally Capricious

Replied on April 9, 2011:

They bit it too. Along with a few of the local villains. If nothing else, Subjugglator was an equal opportunity killer, word is Abyss is dead. Found some of that freaky 'art' at his house, along with half of a body yet to be identified, but suspected to be Funnel, a local fire-teleport Mover.

► Wanda's Wand

Replied on April 9, 2011:

This is some seriously Slaughterhouse 9 shit. Anybody know where they were last seen? Any possibility this is a new recruit? Sounds like he'd get along pretty good with Bonesaw...

► Boulder (Verified Cape) (Protectorate SSE)

Replied on April 9, 2011:

Finished my hands so I can comment now.

Subjugglator is dangerously insane. He should not be approached under any circumstances.

I'm not certain because I couldn't see that well for most of it, but he definitely has some power that allows him to possess the body of any Cape that kills him. He Mastered my friends into helping him with assisted suicide a half dozen times. I'm pretty sure he has some sort of Trump angle too, he said something about not having enough powers yet.

Really hope they catch this guy soon, because he is either irredeemably evil or seriously cracked in the head. Personally I'm not sure which is worse, this could set Case 53s back a lot.

► HakunaMyTatas

Replied on April 9, 2011:

Shit. Did the Butcher and Heartbreaker ever meet?

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4

Topic: Subjugglator sighted in Brockton Bay

In: Boards ► US ► East Coast ► ENE ► Brockton Bay ► Capes

Walter Mathuson (Original Poster) (PRT Official)

Posted on April 11, 2011:

The villain known as Subjugglator was sighted last night at the scene of an apparent fight with Lung. Armsmaster encountered Subjugglator talking with a new cape going by the temporary name Khepri. Apparently she had engaged Lung after hearing him planning an attack on what turned out to be a rival gang, the Undersiders and Khepri engaged believing he was targeting innocents. Subjugglator turned up part way through the battle and killed Lung. Apparently Subjugglator is able to possess the body of whoever kills him and Lung was never known for his restraint.

Armsmaster arrived at the scene shortly afterward and did not immediately recognize Subjugglator. He spoke briefly with Khepri, then noticed and identified Subjugglator from his distinctive horns and facepaint. Upon attempting to subdue the villain, Subjugglator used a powerful Master effect on Armsmaster which caused his suit to lock up per standard M/S protocols. Khepri stayed with Armsmaster until more help arrived and to give a more complete statement. She is in talks concerning her entry into the Wards program at this time.

Subjugglator's previous host was recovered at the scene but the identity has not yet been released at the request of the family.

(Showing Page 5 of 13)

► Alexandria's Baby (No Relation)

Replied on April 11, 2011:

I have kind of mixed feelings on this.

On the one hand, Yeahy Lung is dead!

On the other hand, oh crap Lung is dead and his killer was basically Butcher Mk 2, who is probably still in the city.

I wonder if Alaska is nice this time of year?

► Jumping Legumes

Replied on April 11, 2011:

I don't know if that would be far enough, Subjugglator got from Miami to Brockton in less than 48 hours. And if he's going after powerful capes, or capes with dangerous abilities, he might be interested in someone like Vellum...

► Knight of Prosperity

Replied on April 11, 2011:

It's about time someone killed Lung. That filthy animal has been polluting the city for far too long. Maybe now we can get rid of the rest of his trash.

► Walton the Wandering

Replied on April 11, 2011:

And Nazis! Wow, that's a new record, what was that, three whole pages without the Nazis making an appearance?

Lung was definitely bad, no lie, but not really much worse than Hookwolf. At least Lung didn't run dogfighting rings.

► Olympic Chess (Verified Silver Medal)

Replied on April 11, 2011:

No, he just ran farms of kidnapped girls forced into prostitution.

*All* the villains in BB are assholes. Maybe the heroes could just take a vacation for a few weeks and come back when Subjugglator is gone?

► Clockblocker (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on April 11, 2011:

That would be tempting, but they finally released the identity of his old body.

Rest in Peace Glory Girl, aka Victoria Dallon.

Now it's personal.

► Luminarian

Replied on April 11, 2011:

Wasn't Glory Girl being questioned on her use of excessive force just last week? My brother is friends with some guys who got the shit beat out of them while Glory Girl laughed. While using her Master effect to make them too scared to run away.

Hmm.. who else do we know who uses a Master effect to keep people around so he can hurt them?

► Orion's Pants (Cape Son)

Replied on April 11, 2011:

Are you seriously comparing a Hero to that piece of shit? Glory had never been charged with anything.

► Specific Protagonist

Replied on April 11, 2011:

Uhh, doesnt she have a super healer for a sister and a lawyer for a mom? So long as their brain was working Panacea could patch them back together and no one would ever know.

Not that Im disagreeing with you, Im just pointing out a legitimate concern here.

Anyway, does anyone have any good pictures of Subjugglator? I can't seem to find any, but honestly he looks kind of cute. Hes so small!

► Panaterium

Replied on April 11, 2011:

Honestly, even if we assume Glory Girl was an upstanding citizen and a model hero, statistically this was still a win for the good guys. Lung has a body count in the double digits and does millions in property damage on a semi-regular basis. If the news was that Glory Girl had died killing Lung we would all be cheering her sacrifice.

So far as I know, Jug has killed, what, three civilians? He sounds more like the Fairy Queen than the Butcher, going around collecting powers. Not saying that's a good thing, or anything like that, but imagine if we could trade a hero to get him to kill off Nilbog, or the Slaughterhouse.

One hero for one S-Class threat = not a bad trade in my book.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ... 11 , 12, 13

Topic: Subjugglator surrenders to Brockton Bay Protectorate

In: Boards ► US ► East Coast ► ENE ► Brockton Bay ► News

Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know)

Posted on April 21, 2011:

Okay, so if you're like me, you've been following the grisly exploits of our newest big name villain with great interest and not a little horror.

However, after a brief interaction with the Brockton Bay Wards where he gave info on the villain group the Undersiders and helped in their arrest, he fell off the grid.

There were a few rumors, a few supposed sightings, but nothing concrete until he was seen in Boston yesterday after eliminating all, repeat ALL of the villains in the city, including the Butcher and the entirety of the Teeth. Accord's remaining Ambassadors surrendered to the Protectorate and everyone's favorite Murder Clown left with a parting tumut.

Then he showed up in Brockton, went straight to the PRT headquarters and turned himself in.

All I can say is, wow.

(Showing Page 7 of 22)

► Porcelain (Unverified Cape)

Replied on April 21, 2011:

I still think this is a plot by the PRT. They're trying to trick everyone into thinking that there's some new cape out there who can get through any defense, he just has to let you kill him. 10 to 1 odds he has a sudden 'change of heart' and miraculously regurgitates all the heros he's 'killed' and joins the pigs.

► Imagonaught

Replied on April 21, 2011:

Wow. Just... wow.

And I thought Void was crazy.

Natalia's_CPR Let the Dallons know they're in our prayers.

► Boulder (Verified Cape) (Protectorate SSE)

Replied on April 21, 2011:

Well, he's probably already on route to the Birdcage, even with that last attempt at... heroics? I'm thinking totally crazy is the order of the day; he was really weirdly clingy with Vista at that bank robbery apparently.

► Mad_Maxine (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on April 21, 2011:

Okay, the PRT will be issuing a formal statement tomorrow morning at the press release but, here goes.

Subjugglator is claiming to be an alien, not a Case 53.

I kid you not.

He has a large quantity of circumstantial evidence to support his claim, and Armsmaster has been using a Tinker-tech Lie detector made in collaboration with Dragon to try and confirm since Subjugglator is invisible to most Thinker powers.

He has asked to join the local Wards and expressed regret about the deaths of all the heroes he encountered. The incident involving the Miami Protectorate and Alexander the Great was a result of limited information and cultural differences. Subjugglator is part of the upper caste on his home planet and has certain obligations re: promises. He promised some of the Miami villains to honor their last request, killing the local Hero team. He would have deferred but the Heroes he had already absorbed didn't make any requests, being understandably confused and upset with their new condition. Apparently Glory Girl was an accident; he didn't react well to her Aura.

Once he had realized his error, he made an effort to avoid aggravating any more Heroes; his extended absence between his first appearance in Brockton and his aid to the Wards at Brockton Central Bank was spent meditating and processing his new circumstances.

This was exacerbated by a congenital condition his species suffers from, specifically the inability to moderate their fight/flight response without outside help. After meeting the Wards and interacting with Vista, his mental health was significantly improved. As an 'apology' for his earlier behavior, he eliminated the Fallen enclave in West Virginia, and the Villain presence in Boston. He promised Armsmaster not to 'harvest souls' while in Brockton Bay, so apparently he had to look elsewhere.

There is no indication that Subjugglator is attempting to exert any Master/Stranger influence on any of the ENE Protectorate or Wards, which is backed up by our very own Gallant, who is resistant to emotion manipulating Master effects and can detect them being used on others, as well as those Thinkers not blocked from analyzing Subjugglator.

The PRT is currently reviewing the case and will come to a decision shortly.

► Polyphemus' Sunglasses

Replied on April 21, 2011:

'will come to a decision shortly'? What is that supposed to mean? best case, he's totally nuts! Throw him in the cage before he can master the ENE!

► Ulquiora Cipher (Power Guru)

Replied on April 21, 2011:

So, love child of Butcher and Heartbreaker theory looking better I guess.

Probably went insane somewhere along the way and they ditched him near Florida.

If he can hear the voices of the capes he's absorbed, how much influence do they have on him? Are we going to have to worry about the Butcher coming back soon?

Also: Does anyone know if there is a complete list of Subjugglator's powers somewhere?

I'm editing the wiki as fast as I can, but I can't seem to get a complete census of the capes at the Fallen enclave.

► Winged One

Replied on April 21, 2011:

This is totally blindsiding me. I'm really worried guys.

► Crazy Hat Lady

Replied on April 21, 2011:

this is obvusly a simurg plot! csae 53s must all be aleens brought over by her protal, she did it once before in madison, now its happninng agin!

► Holybowler (Cape Groupie)

Replied on April 21, 2011:

The Simurgh was first sighted twelve years after the first Case 53 was reported. Do your homework.

That said: Holy shit. Are they actually considering letting someone with a double digit body count into the Wards!?

► Lucifer Prince of Pies (Unverified Cape) (Devil's Advocate)

Replied on April 21, 2011:

What else are they going to do with him? Throw him in the Birdcage? I put the odds at better than 95% that Subjugglator would be the only living thing in the 'cage within the day. Do you

want him to have that many high level powers?

They can't kill him. Physically. Even if they wanted to risk it, that would still require the PRT to order someone to risk killing themselves.

The Birdcage cost something like 10 billion USD to build, and over 20 Mill to maintain year to year. They can't afford to build one just for Subjugglator.

If he says killing heroes was an accident, maybe we should just smile and nod, and put him with the Wards team on condition that he doesn't kill anybody else.

Except maybe the S9, because fuck those guys.

User received an Infraction for this post

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 ... 20 , 21, 22

Topic: Jug's Art

In: Boards ► Creative ► Multimedia ► Cape Art

Vista (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Posted on April 27, 2011:

Hey everyone! Jug is still having trouble sleeping at night because we haven't been able to come up with sedatives that work with his biology like he had back home, so he's been working on his painting a lot more.

Pics: 6

What do you think? I like the one with the Klein Bottle flowers, Jug is getting pretty good!

Edit April 29: He got back from visiting some of the Gesellschaft; his OCD still means he has to paint something afterward.

Pic 10

(Showing Page 2 of 6)

► Carbonera Casanova (Verified Suave)

Replied on April 27, 2011:

Interesting pieces. Jug is definitely getting some inspiration from Vista.

► SaharaSamba (Cape Wife)

Replied on April 27, 2011:

That is... really morbid, but at least he can channel his urges into something constructive.

► Tellurium (Temp-banned)

Replied on April 27, 2011:

This is a fucking travesty. You are betraying everything you stood for as a hero by treating this piece of shit like a real person. You need to woman up and User was Banned for this Post

► Copper_Cousin (Moderator)

Replied on April 27, 2011:

I understand that tempers are still frayed after Subjugglator's initial appearance, but death threats against active members of the Wards are not allowed. Take a few days to cool off.

► SkylineTheTemporary

Replied on April 29, 2011:

I'm not a big fan of this style. The early stuff is fairly simplistic, but it just gets more formulaic as he progresses. He's got reasonable levels of technical skill, but there doesn't seem to be much real enthusiasm in anything other than the third image, with the flames? Interesting take on the heteronormative attitude so prevalent in modern art.

I guess I prefer more organic and less rigid work. Try doing some more impressionist pieces maybe?

► EctoBiologist

Replied on April 29, 2011:

'More organic'. Do you know how he makes these?

► Vizard Fourth (Professional Art Critic)

Replied on April 29, 2011:

Skyline Everyone starts somewhere. Subjugglator is what, nine years old? Give him some credit before kicking him in the balls.

Ecto I hadn't heard anything, does he use a special paint or something? Is that why the first set is all monochrome and the second is technicolor? Interesting pallet choices too...

► HaRsH_wHiMsY (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on April 29, 2011:

Skyline Harsh, but I'll take that under advisement.

Vizard I use the miracles the messiah's saw fit to put inside my own veins for most of it. I have pretty good hemokinesis so the drip-drop of purest purple is my standard color, my own pusher's pulse; projected. The extra hues with which to blend and make, come from abandoned hosts, the flesh transformed from the blasphemous red to all the miraculous spectrum which what my kind is blessed upon so as to draw the beauty of the world and the dreams gifted upon my poor think pan by the horror terrors as I slip through slumber's silken slicing, succinct suffering sluicing as vexing visitations vilify the villain and victim, vivified via veracity's vicious veneer.

...so yeah, it's my blood. Sorry it sucks.

► Vista (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Replied on April 29, 2011:

Jug, you are to report for shooshes as soon as you get back, that was way too much alliteration to be healthy. Remember your happy place okay?

► CuttlefishCuddler (Cape Groupie)

Replied on April 29, 2011:

Vistalator = OTP

So cute! Also: Terrifying! Deep breaths Jug, you'll be together soon!

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Topic: Slaughterhouse Subjugglated

In: Boards ► Capes ► Villains ► Villain Groups ► Slaughterhouse Nine

Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know)

Posted on May 10, 2011:

Okay, so, word is that the newest member of the Wards ENE got the go ahead in the wake of his sucsesful absoprtion of the Ashbeast and the Three Blasphemies to go after the Slaughterhouse. I'm sure I'm not alone in cheering since they are ALL DEAD!

So, details: Turns out that the Siberian was a projection. Who knew? After that, Jack went down first, Shatterbird went ballistic, Burnscar tried to run but was chased down, Mannequin wasn't immune to all of Jug's M/S BS, Hatchetface('s reanimated corpse?) was too dumb to run, and finally, Bonesaw decided to join her 'family' in death.

New member Cherish got decapitated (Jug wasn't interested, apparently) and by mutual agreement, Crawler let Jug give it his best shot. Spoilers: Jug won. Based on his wiki, I'm guessing the Brute/Changer 9 just wasn't up to beating the Shaker 15. (For those unfamiliar with Subjugglator's aggregate scores, check out the spread sheet he's posted on his wiki)

Anyway, I think this calls for a national holiday; the S9 have been a blight on this continent for decades. No longer.

(Showing Page 19 of 45)

► GallowsCalibrator (Verified Bounty Hunter)

Replied on May 10, 2011:

Dayum.

Last count, the S9 had more than 57 mill on their heads, anyone know what the little guy is planning on doing with all that dough?

► WongaWonga

Replied on May 10, 2011:

Wooo! Burnscar killed my cousin, burn in hell bitch!

► SubjuggElated (Cape Groupie)

Replied on May 10, 2011:

Praise the Messiahs! The Nine have taken their rightful place in the Dark Carnival, here's hoping they get trampled in the mosh pit.

► Peternal

Replied on May 10 2011:

It is so weird that Jug's cult has taken off like it has, but...

YEAHY DEAD S9!

I lost family in Boston. Go fuck the devil in hell Jack Slash!

► Sanctus (Verified Cape) (Haven)

Replied on May 10, 2011:

I never thought I'd say this, but I think Subjugglator has actually completed atonement for the heroes he killed. The Slaughterhouse Nine had a kill count in the *thousands* and *literally* hundreds of heroes have died to their madness with no end in sight. If those whose lives were lost were necessary to ensure the end of the Nine, then they surely have a place in Heaven for their sacrifice.

Godspeed Subjugglator, a light in the darkness.

► Ulysses S Plant

Replied on May 10, 2011:

It is so surreal to be celebrating the actions of a cape with a kill count in the mid fifties.

Whelp, at least he's on our side.

Shine on you crazy Murder Clown!

► Tomahawking (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on May 10, 2011:

No word yet on if the PRT is going to give Subjugglator a full pardon based on his actions, but personally, I would vote in favor.

The 9 were a plague on all decent people. They deserve to stew in eternal boredom at the back of Jug's skull.

► Carnival Caretaker (Cape Groupie)

Replied on May 10, 2011:

Ohh, I hadn't thought of that.

I know Jug doesn't really hear the voices unless he's listening, but I still feel bad that he has to carry Jack-fucking-Slash around.

Stay strong Jug! Don't listen to that asshole!

► HemoConiseour

Replied on May 10, 2011:

Anyone know what he drew to commemorate? bet it was fuckin epic.

► Mock Scratched

Replied on April 29, 2011:

I heard it was a portrait of Vista done like the Lady of Guadalupe. They are so cute together! Though, yeah, that's kind of creepy if you don't know Jug.

Hurray for Slaughterhouse Slaughtering Day!

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 17, 18, 19, 20, 21 ... 43 , 44, 45

~0~o~0~

A/N: PHO interlude, working on the next chapter, about a third done, then it will take lots of polish. Upside: Semester has started, which means my tutoring gig has started, which means I now have more time to write because no one comes for the classes I tutor! wee.

On a story related note: The Guild is dedicated to fighting S-Class threats, yeah? How often do we think these come up? Dragon's interlude indicates she tracks known S-Class threats, but only lists Nilbog, S9, Ashbeast, Sleeper, the Blasphemies, and the EBs. Are these it? Or do the Guild tend to respond to incidents like Echidna; a quick flare up dangerous enough to earn S rating, but more easily killable, which occur every so often.

I'll drop the updated list of Jug's powers at the end of this post, and you'll notice Spark seems like an odd addition. I think he is the sort who falls into a 'would get a kill-order but it wouldn't be worth it' like the original Butcher would, or Heartbreaker would. They could be killed, but doing so would be extremely costly in terms of civilian casualties and infrastructure.

We don't have exact numbers for how much of a power the Butcher retains, I am assuming 1/5th (20%). Jug has the same quantity, but once he ate the Butcher he now had 20% + 20%(20%) .2 + (.2*.2)=.24 24%. In addition, the Butcher retains all the power of the current host, so whatever body Jug is in he has 40% of their power. The Blasphemies each had quarter strength copies of each others powers, so .24(1.5)=.36.

The aggregate scores aren't perfect, but its more or less the sum of the percentage of the ratings. The individual powers dont necessarily stack perfectly, but they do 'bleed' into each other a little bit. For instance, using Accord's power is easier when it centers around death because it gets a passive boost from Blasphemy 2, and so on. For powers that are very similar, like the Shaker powers and the Brute powers, it can be assumed to be simply additive.


	6. 1-5 Gallant

Gallant knew _exactly_ how he felt about Subjugglator.

It spiked every time he saw the little monster sitting with Missy, that odd peach glow around her as she stroked his hair. It throbbed as he watched the freak pretending to be almost normal, playing video games with Taylor as the mutual commentary built a soft rose that hummed when they shared a smile. It _ached_ while he listened to Ethan's jokes about the murderer's poetry, the blue of admiration streaked with the purple of amusement.

Hatred.

Burning in intensity, hungering endlessly, never fully fading. Well; never _fully_ fading.

Because sometimes Jug would do something and Gallant would remember that the horned mutant had killed nearly a dozen S-Class threats. And in the back of his head a little voice would start to whisper oh so seductively.

It first happened when Jug got worked up visiting a school. All the little kids started to get over excited, a touch too enamored with the crudely made balloon animals, the hue of their emotions being tinted by an outside influence.

Jug.

 _Vicky_ , whispered the traitorous part of his brain. _Just like Vicky_.

Jug noticed quickly though, he always did, and he pulled back on the aura and everyone calmed down a bit, and the meet and greet went on, and Jug got ridiculously dazzled by the stage magic. And Dean boiled, and steamed, and fermented in his frustration that no one was _calling_ Jug on his _bullshit_.

And the voice whispered.

 _Vicky never payed attention. She always needed someone else to make her stop blasting everyone nearby her with the aura. And she liked it, she loved the attention, the adoration. Jug could have them kneeling at his feet, but he'd rather make them_ _ **balloon animals**_ _._

The blackness reared its head again when they went on patrol, Jug laughing as he spun amongst Hookwolf's blades (for though the nazi had a body count he lacked a Kill-Order), the unpowered mooks sitting amiably on the curb as a few of the troll's transient clones spoke quietly to them, ensuring their compliance via Mastering.

 _ **Glory Girl**_ _would have smashed through them without a care in the world if they didn't immediately start cowering. You know she had to call Amy out to fix someone more than once when she got too 'enthusiastic'._

Jug was an empirically better hero than Victoria had ever been or could ever have hoped to be, and it wasn't just his strength but his restraint when dealing with, well, everyone who wasn't a very high level Brute. Dean couldn't remember what the freak's current rating was in that department, but it was at least a 7 or 8, and you would never know based only on how he interacted with others. The troll was exceedingly careful and more than once had let someone go rather than be forced to injure them, not that that happened frequently with such a variety of Master/Stranger powers.

It wasn't fair. He shouldn't get to be a good hero after what he had done. He should be like Sophia and constantly antagonize everyone, not stop for selfies and autographs with anybody who asked, not hand out candy and party favors everywhere he went, not get along with basically _everyone else_.

On the street people would stop to thank Jug, or congratulate him for killing so many villains. More than once Dean saw someone in face paint like Jug's or heard the telltale echo of a honk horn down the street coming from the nutjobs who actually liked the meandering ramblings Jug called 'sermons' in his blog. It reminded the young hero that most of his ire was sourced from the few, very few now, heroes that Jug had killed, out of ignorance or on accident, and now 'regretted', even if it disconcerted the empath to not be able to see that regret.

And so the anger cooled, the fury subsided, and with it the shame grew because he had fewer and fewer justifications. The thing was though, whenever he started to think that way Totoro would look at him and smirk with his dopey half lidded eyes, and somehow Dean knew, he _fucking_ **KNEW**. That the little monster didn't feel a _fucking_ _thing_ about any of the people he had killed.

And like that the anger was back, strong as ever.

No one knew except Gallant and Jug. In public they were always civil, always polite, but Dean could practically taste the bile on his tongue every time he made eye-contact with that smug fucking clown-face and it made him want to-

"Sup bro? You been looking a little all up and stressed out. Wanna spar a bit? Hey, you know I finally got my Semblance unlocked yeah? Motha' Fuckin' miracles! You feeling that what is up to go a few rounds?"

 **Yes**. _Perfect_. Dean's suit had gotten upgraded recently, and his skill with his Aura was pretty high as well.

 _Jug gave that to you. He could have lied, and kept it secret. But he gave it away to everyone in the Protectorate who wanted it._

Dean gritted his teeth as he followed behind the bobbing horns peeking through the hood of Totoro's jacket, ignoring the treasonous whispers of his brain. Yeah, he needed to blow off some steam.

They faced each other across the practice room floor, soft matting belying the strength of the material rated to withstand even high end Brute strength. Dean's smile was more of a snarl as he faced the other.

"Just strength against strength right? Get a little workout? Or did you want to use your Semblance?"

Please let it be powers, if its powers then I can blast that little smirk off your damn face with so much guilt you'll explode you fucking toad.

"Yeah, sure. Strength only. But, I don't think you'll mind if I use my Semblance; it's not very flashy…"

And before Gallant's eyes Jug stretched up and up and… Wow.

"Neat huh? I can control my personal time. This is me at about, eh… 8 sweeps? Um, 17? Something around that."

Dean swallowed a bit. Jug was _tall_ , really tall, even if he was still pretty thin. Only a little of the width he was likely to grow into present in the shoulders, but his horns! His _hair_. Big. Not that Dean was short, they were actually pretty close in stature since Dean was a bit wider in the shoulders yet. It was surprising not to be facing a little kid; normally the Case 53 was shrimpy.

"Great. I'd feel bad about kicking a toddler around like a soccer ball."

His opponent's grin was slow and feral, that same half-lidded gaze with just a touch of sharpness on the edges, like Dean was just the funniest fucking thing in the world, la-di-fucking-dah-

Fast.

Dean bent backwards away from the blow, barely catching himself on his hands before bending at the waist and kicking back up to push the other cape back. Jug bounced away, loose pants flapping about as his lanky arms hung indolently at his sides, not even moving to defend. Like he was just taking a walk in the park. Like nothing was happening at all. Like Dean didn't even _matter_.

The empath lunged forward, a right hook coming to knock some of those snaggly teeth out of that _stupid_ smile blocked by a forearm before a couple rabbit punches slammed into his chest, stinging even through the armor.

Gallant snarled and pulled back for a moment, watchful for an opening as he moved to keep himself out of line-of-sight, blocking his opponent's view with the defensively raised limb.

A long leg whipped around in a high sweep, aiming to nail him right in the stomach again but the sound of moving cloth was enough to tip the human off. He grabbed the limb and swung the troll against the wall, breath huffing out of the surprised Jug in a whoosh.

The fight descended into a brutal slugging match from there, neither party able to land a blow hard enough to end the contest outright, instead relying on weaker strikes to slowly accrue damage and exhaustion. Tiny cuts and bruises began to appear, mostly on the relatively unarmoured troll, but Dean could feel his own stamina waning a bit as well.

Eventually Dean found an opening and he slammed Totoro back against the wall, pinning him in place. And the asshole just fucking smiled. It was a bit different this time though, Dean thought as he panted with exertion, a trail of blood running from a cut on his eyebrow to tickle the corner of his mouth. He had one hand keeping Jug's arms pinned over the troll's head while the other forearm pressed against the taller cape's chest to keep him against the wall. The smile didn't look mocking now, even with a bead of dark purple blood staining the painted lips; now it was _almost_ like-

It tasted a little bit salty, and not like grape at all, and not quite like blood either; there was more chrome and less copper to it, and why was he kissing Jug again?

Gallant pulled back, startled. And Jug _fucking_ _ **smiled**_.

The armor clad teen took another step back, momentarily stunned as he saw a little shift in his own emotions. A touch of yellow in the black.

Crap.

 _That_ wasn't a Master effect.

Dean wasn't technically 'immune' to emotion manipulation, rather he could see his own emotional state with his powers. His empathy sense wasn't quite like vision, though that was the nearest analog he could use when describing it, and not really like any other sense either. It was about as sensitive as sight though, and Master effects were horribly mono-chromatic things, all the little flickers and shadings of subtle emotion and veins of complex feeling washed out in RAGE or FEAR or-

Jug was kissing him again. And there was that little flicker in Dean's emotions again…

Gallant punched the troll in the face, the tiny cut now a full blown split lip as the messy mop of hair bounced off the wall.

"Get the fuck off me!"

And he f _ucking smiled_!

With a roar he threw himself at the taller boy with renewed vigor, fists slamming into the thin stomach hard enough to throw his fellow Ward to the ground, a cough bringing fresh purple to spray out in a fine mist. Armoured legs straddled prominent hip bones, but before he could start raining blows Jug grabbed his shoulders and rolled, pinning Gallant below him on the mat.

A fat drop of blood fell from Totoro's bleeding lip to land on Dean's cheek; his tongue darted out instinctively to taste.

Not like grape at all.

That **motherfucking** smile.

This kiss was a lot less gentle than the first two. There was rather a lot of teeth involved, though surprisingly little pain given that godawful shark dentition, just tiny little scrapes of the sort promising danger and excitement to the adventurous and oh my god was he actually legitimately enjoying this? The horned head retreated after a moment, to stare down at the pinned hero. Dean swallowed thickly as he looked up at Totoro.

"I hate you so fucking much."

The smile stretched even wider, displaying teeth tinged with a swirl of red and purple blood.

"But you aren't saying no."

This time it involved tongue. The troll was surprisingly dextrous.

"Ahem!"

Dean fell back, face burning as his hand released its stranglehold on the thick black tangle of Totoro's hair. The slightly older cape looked pissed, and his hand tightened slightly, the tips of claws digging into Dean's jaw.

"Yes?"

The troll's voice was strained with repressed ire.

"We were looking for you, Piggot called a meeting."

"Can it wait?"

The Endbringer sirens kicked in, the piercing wail almost enough to muffle Jug's scream of rage.

"No."

The Ward pair made it to the conference room in record time, and Dean spent the whole journey trying to pretend he wasn't horrendously embarrassed to have been caught having sloppy makeouts just a few minutes ago. As they entered the room, Jug began to shrink, eventually settling into something only a bit older than he normally was as he ran up to Vista with an excited grin, little bits of blood still on his face.

Oh fuck.

Dean had just made out with a _nine year old_. What in the actual fuck was wrong with him? Jug glanced up with a scowl as the thought rolled through Gallant's head, and pulled out his PRT issued phone to type a rapid message.

 **J Stop feeling guilty, it's gross.**

 **J Don't fuck this up for me or I'll beat the shit out of you.**

 **J No one else on this planet is going to be a workable Kismesis.**

 **J Suck it up your prissy bitch.**

Dean glanced towards the other cape, the droning monotone of Armsmaster's briefing going in one ear and out the other. Had Jug been _intentionally_ antagonizing him to cultivate a Kismesitude? Had the troll been flirting with him this entire time? That made a surprising amount of sense actually; the troll placed an unusually heavy emphasis on relationships and the 'quadrants', and Hate-based romance was a bit beyond what most humans could comfortably wrap their heads around. But even so, that was not sufficient.

 **G That isn't going to happen.**

 **G It was a mistake, and it won't be repeated.**

 **G Besides, you might not care about the age difference but I DO.**

The troll gave him a skeptical look over the table.

 **J There wasn't a meaningful age difference.**

 **G You are NINE.**

 **J Old me wasn't.**

 **J My Semblance doesn't just change my physical age.**

 **J It affects my brain too.**

 **J You had sloppy makeouts with me at 17 years.**

 **J Older than you.**

 **J You pretentious git.**

 **G What?**

 **G Then why are you flirting with me now?**

 **J Cause I Hate you.**

 **J I still have feelings.**

 **J Not concupiscent ones because, yeah, my body hasn't hit that instar yet.**

 **J But old me does.**

 **J And he thinks you're pretty fine and detestable too.**

 **G Way to be insane.**

 **G That's still not a good explanation.**

 **G Besides.**

 **G Why should I believe anything you say?**

 **J ...**

 **J I'll turn off the anti-thinker if it will get you to shut up about this.**

Dean raised an eyebrow behind his helmet in surprise before glancing up at Jug. The troll made eye contact for a moment before closing his eyes and frowning.

Oh, wow. Totoro _did_ have emotions.

They were swirling in no small amount of agitation, but Dean could recognize exasperation, a bit of hurt, and an odd blackish-yellow tinged with blue and some other color that he had never seen before. He had never really believed the troll was an alien before, but that was… Hatred, affection, and admiration, all rolled into a singular sensation. Humans didn't have that. Dean didn't even have a word for that.

Gallant blinked and the aura was gone, Jug's jagged mouth set in an unhappy line.

 **J There.**

 **J I'm never doing that again or Ill get zizbombed.**

 **J You're such a fucking primadona.**

 **J Stupidhead.**

 **J But that's why I Hate you.**

 **J 3**

Dean groaned loudly enough to attract attention.

"Did you want to add something Gallant?"

Armsmaster was frowning viciously down the length of the conference table. The empath straightened up and shook his head with a cough. Dennis leaned over with a smirk on his face.

"You got a little something on your uh…"

The Striker's whisper trailed off, and he tapped at the corner of his mouth evocatively. Dean rubbed the ball of his thumb over the indicated zone and came away tinged with a bit of purple and red mixed together.

His armoured head fell into his hand.

How could he possibly be okay with this?

What as he actually _feeling_ right now?

Anger, discomfort, aggravation, a teensy bit of longing which he stuffed in a deep dark hole, and something like… irritated admiration? Jug was an effective hero, he was doing good, but he was also just… such an asshole.

He glanced back up to where the troll was sitting, still looking back at him with more concern than Dean had ever seen on his face before. He was so small.

He rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

Okay, Pros and Cons.

Cons: -Jug is a psychopath.

Double con: -Jug is a psychopath with a hate-crush on you and if you turn him down he could… well he'll probably get over it because Missy is a strong positive influence, but still.

-Dating a coworker is awkward as hell.

-Jug is way young, no matter what Alien timekeeping or Semblance shenanigans he might be pulling out of his waste chute.

-Jug is an asshole with more than fifty kills under his belt.

 _He's not as bad in person as Sophia or Glory Girl, and you would have dated both of them_ whispered his seditious brain.

-Also, very important, DEAN WASN'T GAY

There. That was a really good reason. But still, lets be fair. Pros.

- _Jug is really good at kissing_ SHUT UP STUPID BRAIN!

-Jug is a powerful hero, you won't have to worry about him getting hurt (sort of).

-Dean would now have a valid excuse to beat the shit out of Jug whenever he thought the troll was taking the piss. That was a very happy thought indeed.

-It had been kind of lonely after Vicky died, _which was Jug's fault_. Yes, thank you brain, I had forgotten that.

-Jug was really good with kids WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING BRAIN?!

 **G Okay.**

 **G I am not a homosexual.**

 **J What?**

 **G Not gay. Don't date guys.**

 **G Sorry.**

 **J That doesn't sound like a real thing.**

 **G ...**

 **G It very much is.**

 **G I'm not attracted to dudes.**

 **J ...**

 **J I'm like ninety percent sure you just made that up.**

 **G Are you shitting me?**

 **J Hold up.**

 **J Okay, I talked to some of my carnival and they say it checks out.**

 **G Eew.**

 **J Still not seeing the problem.**

 **J Apparently something to do with a bulge-bulge incompatibility?**

 **J You know I have a nook too.**

 **J Right?**

Dean swallowed involuntarily, his mouth suddenly dry as the sudden image of a horned head thrown back in ecstasy and writhing above him with that same look of scorn on the stupid painted face while Dean pulled on his ridiculous horns like handlebars and- Whoa, whoa, whoa, no, no, yikes, still not the only problem.

 **G Moving on, you are still too young.**

 **G I know you might have different standards.**

 **G Maybe this is just me.**

 **G But I can't date a kid.**

 **G Even if the kid is older than I am.**

 **G Sometimes.**

 **J ...**

 **J Hmm.**

 **J What if it was just old me?**

 **G That would be pretty awkward still.**

 **G Though I suppose conceptually acceptable.**

 **G But still no.**

 **J What if I kill Leviathan?**

Wait, what? Dean looked up at the screen. Oh, projected to arrive in Brockton Bay in… 45 minutes?! Crap, he hadn't been paying attention. Gallant snorted and tapped a last message before sliding the phone away to focus on the briefing.

 **G Sure.**

 **G Kill Leviathan and I'll date old you.**

Fat chance of that.

The preliminary briefing was concluded soon after and all the local heroes began to congregate at the staging area closer to the beach to greet the new arrivals from out of town.

Dean couldn't help but notice the agitated way that Totoro walked between Taylor and Missy, constantly fluctuating his age to be a bit older or younger in turn, giving encouraging pats and soft words as was appropriate. Facial expressions were at least still easy enough to read, and Jug was definitely worried about his red partners.

There was a crack as Alexandria decelerated, and Jug glanced up at the hero with an oddly blank and hostile look as she moved in his general direction. Dean frowned curiously and moved a bit closer, watching as Jug sprouted up to full adult height and width, tips of his candy corn horns nearly brushing the ceiling as he grew to truly massive stature, hoodie shifting suddenly into a long grey and purple trench coat and hood.

"You will not gainsay my attendance Polyphemus. My Moirail and Matesprit are imperilled. I can do much good all upon the field of slaughter. Besides, I have accumulated more Brute than even you; the rabble will not be imperiled by that which is the miracle of my existence."

Dean's brows pinched in puzzlement. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

Alexandria merely regarded the massive troll in silence for a moment before nodding and gesturing towards the stage at the front of the room. Jug followed with a grim smile, settling a half step behind the Triumvirate as Legend and Eidolon arrived as well, the Blaster taking a forward position as usual as the shadowed face of the troll looked on with a small, cruel grin.

Gallant had never been to an Endbringer fight before (emotions blasts were pretty useless against city killers) but he had watched the briefings as part of his Wards training, and Legend's speech was well given, but slightly formulaic. More than one person was seen to glance at Jug where he stood behind the Triumvirate, and Dean could sense a slight swelling of discontent which peaked when Regent spoke up to fill a brief pause.

"That's great and all, but why is _he_ here? You aren't planning to feed us to the Subjugglator are you?"

Legend's mouth opened slightly, but Jug was at the fore in a moment, grim smile widening as he raised his hands in languid placation.

"Peace, friend. I have not come to reap the little spark that dwells all up in your flesh to add it unto the Dark Carnival."

A wave of unnatural calm spread across the assemblage and fears eased to be replaced by stirrings of mirth. Jug spread his arms in oration.

"The wayward spawn of Gl'bgolyb thrashing in mindless agony shall be cast down. Should you value eternity my ninja, I will come to thee, but only those who ask will be reborn into the eternal party to frolic with rowdy minstrels and the angel of double death. Know no fear, for the MOTHER FUCKING SUBJUGGLATOR IS HERE!"

Alexandria sniffed disapprovingly and tapped Jug on the shoulder; the giggles and smiles of the assemblage subsided into puzzled unease. The troll smiled toothily once more at the poorly reassured crowd and stepped back as Alexandria moved forward.

"Subjugglator is here for a number of reasons, predominantly that Brockton is his home. At any rate, he has a high enough Brute and Mover rating that he is spectacularly unlikely to die in the fight, even if you intentionally target him. Needless to say, if he intentionally harvests anyone it would be considered a violation of the Truce and of his parole as a Ward."

Jug gave her an acknowledging nod and turned back to the crowd.

"As I said, if you would rather not face the cold of grave alone, I can come to thee in that which is thy moment of distress if you but push thrice upon the alert button on your armband. Else I will allow nature to take its course all up ins, or attempt to evacuate you to the medical tent wherein the noble Panacea does spread the boisterous miracle of healing."

A few capes were glancing at the tinker tech provided by Dragon with obvious nerves, but a few near the back hooted cheerfully and waved. There was a small cluster there with grey and white paint on their faces or masks, and Dean had the sudden and disorienting realization that they must be followers of Totoro's bizarre religion.

The troll acknowledged them magnanimously, then stiffened and turned to the back wall, throwing up his arms and bellowing 'He Comes!' as every armband in the room chimed a perky 'Tidalwave imminent!'.

The rear wall collapsed in a surge of seawater but was slowed dramatically by a line of Jug's clones holding their arms spread and calling fields of force and bristling metal to block the murky surge. One clone appeared before Dean in a protective curl, but he saw only a flicker before he and the rest of the assembled capes were deposited at the fallback position.

Totoro appeared a moment later, grinning broadly into the drenching downpour. The troll opened his mouth and began to sing softly, his clones flickering around him as he supplied his own background and harmonies, the sound reverberating even in the heavy rain.

"I've got some blood on my hands, I don't know who it is from, It was a bare knuckle fight, now I don't know where to run. I got some blood on my hands, a broken jaw and a limp, I'm throwing up in an alley, but man you should have seen him!"

Raising a hand to point at the towering figure visible through the sheets of water falling from the sky he vanished in a surge which cracked the pavement upon which he had stood and threw up a trailing line of churning water.

There was an almighty crack as the troll impacted his target and fire blossomed, bright enough to illuminate the monster as hundreds of copies of Jug appeared all over its form before bursting into incandescent pyres, the flame bending and swirling unnaturally to cling to Leviathan's flesh like a second skin, the water shadow flashing to steam as soon as it formed.

The beast surged forward, sending the many iterations of Jug tumbling as it pushed through and towards the other defenders. It was a mistake to turn away from the angry power collector though, and a tentacled form larger even than the Endbringer rose from the surf to throw itself on Leviathan, sparking with an inner light. Ineffectual, unfortunately, for the construct was made of water and the Sea King's hydrokinesis was stronger than whatever had made the kraken, even with the backbone of lightning and smoke now playing itself out over the beast's smooth hide.

A howl of rage echoed over the churning water as the slim form of the Endbringer smashed through a line of shops to clash with Fenja, or maybe Menja. As the giantess' feet were swept out from beneath her a streak of orange and purple slammed into the beast, knocking it back, fissures visibly spreading across its skin under a fresh hurricane of blows.

Dean ducked behind a wall as the next wave hit before continuing his search for the injured, his HUD linked to Dragon's armbands to help him along in his SnR. A corner of the display remained focused on the battle though, camera drones specially hardened by Jug's remnant of Mannequin tracking Leviathan even as it nearly flew through the water.

A ball of figures clad only in white and black stripes covered the monster, tearing into it, but the beast was nimble enough to slip through the small gaps in the formation, lashing out with a surging geyser the size of a skyscraper aimed at the hospital. Another shriek of rage resounded as Jug was forced to move to defence, but great rents had been carved in the Endbringers hide where the claws of the Siberian had bit deep, and an arm had been torn from the beast before it could escape.

For a long minute the troll and the sea monster danced around each other, Jug continuously prevented from getting in close while a threat was pressed against a softer target. Dean grimaced as he hauled another broken form out from some rubble; Jug was not the most patient of folk.

A new bloom of fire lit up the day-become-night before coalescing into a flickering ball around the Endbringer, an impossible blackness lit from within, reducing everything to an erratic strobe as Jug drank deep of his rage, the troll's body glowing an actinic white inside the pool of ink, appearing oddly flat and devoid of depth but visibly swollen with Lung's power as he assailed the beast with nested waves of horrific destruction.

Everything paused for a moment as Leviathan began to skeletonize within the dark pool, flesh corroding away as the titanic forces Jug brought to bear ripped at the crystalline material it was formed from. Eventually the pit dispersed leaving a perfectly smooth crater that immediately filled with water, the severely diminished, but not defeated, Endbringer visibly recovering even as Jug abruptly shrank to nearly normal size and regained his breath.

The other defending capes surged forward to take advantage of Leviathan's moment of stasis but as soon as large collection had formed around it, something changed. There was a deep rumbling hum which cut through even the torrent of rain, and the water around the beast shivered as the tone rose sharply in pitch, quickly disappearing entirely from audible range and leaving the battlefield momentarily silent as the instant stretched with bated breath.

The capes surrounding the monster exploded.

Where before there had been nearly three dozen parahumans, many of them Brutes, now there was only Jug, Alexandria, and a fine red mist, and even Jug appeared staggered and gasping under the onslaught as the Triumvirate member clutched at her head in disorientation.

Gallant's jaw fell open. _Non-Manton Limited hydrokinesis_? That was a massive jump from anything previously displayed, even if the range was only 20 meters or so. The Endbringer had never demonstrated an ability of that destructive power before, this level of escalation was unprecedented.

A new sphere of Totoro's clones formed around the obsidian skeleton of the Destroyer of Kyushu, but had no time to act before thin spears of water shot out, titanic pressure penetrating the skull of every clone simultaneously and dispersing them to ash.

A final howl echoed over the flooding city and the glowing form of Subjugglator imploded with an audible crunch.

The assembled capes held their breath in horrified anticipation.

Leviathan stood still for a long second, head still oriented towards the point from which Jug had disappeared, even Alexandria visibly unwilling to engage as she floated nearby.

Dean shuffled in what he would later vehemently deny to have been anxiety.

Jug couldn't be dead, could he?

A crack resounded over the flood waters as the smooth skull of the Leviathan split across the mouth, exposing an extensive maw of needle sharp teeth. Twin spikes rose from the top of it's skull, and thin membranous fins extended from where its ears would have been as the flesh regenerated into a new form.

That was… not the worse case scenario? If Jug could absorb Endbringers then… But no. The beast was altered, yes, but not becoming identical to Subjugglator, that much was obvious.

The litany of the dead ceased, and a voice thrummed over the water from where the Blaster clade had been stationed.

"Enough, beast. I hold your leash now. Kneel, and submit."

Green robes fell away to reveal Jug in Eidolon's place.

What? What!?

The newly empowered Subjugglator slowly approached to float in front of the kneeling Leviathan, raising a hand above his head. Space twisted as one of Subjugglator's juggling clubs slid neatly into his palm, before the instrument began to change, somehow, like it was growing heavier, or shrinking into itself, though it seemed that it stayed the same size. With a sound of shattering mountains the club came down on Leviathan's head, and the monster disintegrated into finer and finer shards leaving an inky black sphere floating at around head height. The club swung again, and the orb shattered, the water throughout the city finally stilling and the clouds starting to recede as the ball came apart into jagged chunks.

Jug stared down at the remnants of Leviathan dispassionately, exhaustion clear on his face amidst the stunned silence of the assembled capes.

Suddenly he looked up and grinned at Dean. Even across the significant distance separating them his armor's magnification let him read the little troll's lips.

'How bout that date then?'

~0~o~0~

Notes: Little things first.

Alexandria=Polyphemus, the cyclops from the Odyssey. _"Who blinded you Polyphemus?" "Nobody blinded me!' and so they concluded he had blinded himself._

The Endbringers fill a niche somewhere between power generated constructs and Master effect victims, so, just like if Regent hijacked someone to kill Jug, Jug possessed their motivator. He probably couldn't actually eat an Endbringer. Its important to note that Jug's power weighs three things when deciding who he eats: Who pulled the trigger? What pushed them to pull the trigger? Who was closest? The primary concern is always always always keep Jug alive no matter what, so in the event of autopilot-EBs, he would posses however was nearest to him. Imagine a hypothetical scenario. A cape builds a landmine. Another cape sinks that landmine into the ground. A third cape plans and manipulates events so Jug steps on the landmine. Jug will probably go for the Thinker (who had the most recent contact with the cause of death), but his power would default to the closest if the difference in distance is really big.

kay.

Jug and Dean. Couple things to start.

First: Trolls don't recognize gender differences as meaningful. They have no cultural history of sex mattering because it doesn't matter in any sense. Girls and Boys are equivalent in their access to horrific psychic powers, and both contribute the same type of gametic material to the Mother Grub during reproduction; gender is about as important as whether you prefer coke of pepsi. They did not have a word for 'sexual orientation' before they met humans.

Second: Jug has been deliberately antagonizing Dean in particular because he thinks it is hilarious and Dean reciprocates with scorn and hatred. Jug really wants to get his quadrants filled, its sort of the last box he needs to check for everything to be 'normal'.

More complicated stuff: Jug's mental age is all over the damn place. He probably pictures himself as if he was 14 most of the time unless something reminds him he's only 9 but occasionally he'll still get threads of thought as if he was in his 20s.

there are 3 personalities in play here. The human, the troll, and the mask.

and each personality has different mental ages which now get associated with different threads of thought.

Troll: Dean is so cute and hateable, and I just want to punch him in the face, and fill his socks with mayonnaise, and call him a stupid head, and squee!

Human: Dean is 16, that's kind of creepsville. I guess he's okay looking? Kind of a dweeb though...

Mask: Gotta fill quadrants, gotta fill quadrants, why wont anyone hate me properly?! Dean, you suck ass! Fight me you little bitch!

When he uses his semblance this gets way worse, because it is literally his older self getting swapped in (sort of reminiscent of the Jyunen Bazooka), although Jug can't access those memories because fuck time travel. Instead he gains something like the instinctive responses of his older body, including relationships and some personality traits. And then he sort of broadcasts this to everyone nearby, probably by unintentional master/stranger type stuff. Not at a high enough level for those effected to change their personalities or anything, but enough that their instinctive responses to old!Jug are different from what they would be if it was a simple shapeshifting effect. Since caliginous romance is really hard for humans anyway, Jug will likely keep fluctuating his age to keep Dean annoyed and angry.

Now, for those who have trouble with black rom in general: trolls only hold onto emotions for people they feel a certain amount of 'concern' for. The human word 'like' is apropos; a troll wont hate or pity you unless they like you, otherwise they'll just kill your ass and be on their way. Jug likes Dean a bit, and Dean likes Jug a bit, but they both have things that they find loathsome in the other. Thus: Kismesis, rather than murder.


	7. 1-6 Mini Interludes

Emily Piggot found it hard to pin down exactly what she felt about Subjugglator from moment to moment (she refused to use the diminutive 'Jug', it distracted from his first acts as a cape in Miami to pretend they were two different individuals).

She appended her signature onto the requisition order for Kid Win and Chariot's newest project and pulled another piece of paperwork from her Tree Modus. It wasn't the simplest Fetch Modus Subjugglator made for the Sylladex, but it worked well for her because by properly labeling items before loading them she could ensure that she worked through everything in appropriate order from highest to lowest priority, and that snacks for her blood sugar were dispensed at regular intervals. Plus, the simpler moduses usually couldn't hold as much as she needed from day to day.

Piggott's first impressions of her most potentially catastrophic Ward were… unflattering, to say the least. He was everything she feared and hated in parahumans: unstable, powerful, aggressive, dangerous. Everyone talked of how he slaughtered all those capes, but most forgot the three normals he had used for transportation from Miami to Brockton, normal people slaughtered like cattle. Less than cattle, truth be told; Subjugglator thought of most parahumans as cattle, normal humans were like… soda cans. In his home culture normals would be grubs, infants that deserved and received literally no consideration beyond being useful ground into meal for bread, or bled for paint. A cape was someone he might want something from and need to strategize, or plot, or trick, or coerce, or, occasionally, actually speak with to get it. _Humans_ weren't expected to have agency at all. Subjugglator seemed confused but tolerantly amused that the Protectorate was held under the thumb of the PRT, like letting children say they were now king of the house and bedtimes were to be abolished.

Cute; That was what humans were to him. Cute.

He followed Vista's instructions though, and now he seemed to have formed bonds with Weaver and Gallant too, all solid heroes. Less explicit friendships with the other Wards and even the occasional bit of admiration for the older heroes as well; not as encouraging, but closer to healthy.

More tethers to keep him under control.

That was what Emily had settled on, eventually. Subjugglator was a powerful tool, if he could be kept under control. Friends were levers on his psyche which could be gently pulled to steer him on course, and when he stayed on course…

She flipped through the most recent report forwarded to her from the BBPD.

73% reduction in criminal activity across the board.

She had originally felt such a powerful loathing for the monster she had nearly had an aneurysm, but since then it had changed, distilled into almost a manic, vindictive glee. He was a monster, and no mistake, but he was a monster like out of a fairytale coming to get the bad little capes that got in his way; a literal bogeyman lurking to eat the unwary. Much more PR friendly than that fool psycho Shadow Stalker had ever been (and she thanked her lucky stars that Weaver had been amenable to reason and not gone public with the whole thing) and more effective to boot. Resultantly, her initial ire had metamorphosed into something like a fierce, almost possessive, pride. Subjugglator was the most rabid hound in her kennel, but he was also by far the most effective, and most importantly he was _hers_.

The Merchants had fled the city the moment Subjugglator appeared; they had last been seen enroute to Mexico, and good riddance to bad rubbish. The Undersiders had all been recruited into the Wards and shipped out of town, and Coil had followed his catspaws soon after. The ABB were defunct, Subjugglator had eaten all of their capes, which would have left the city vulnerable to the E88, or other gangs, except...

The Teeth were extinct, as were Blasto and the Ambassadors, so there would be no gangs moving in from Boston, and the deranged troll's mere presence was a strong incentive to any gang that might be interested in Brockton to try her empty sister city instead. The Empire had been effectively neutered. They were expanding, slowly, very slowly, but that was likely to halt soon since Subjugglator was using the bounty on Leviathan to pay for Faultline's Crew to keep certain areas of the city safe. Besides which, he was just a spectacularly effective hero.

Master's made Director Piggott's skin crawl, but he had not a single demerit to his name, not a single substantiated claim of misconduct, and few enough unsubstantiated claims as well. He was exactingly careful when subduing suspects and fighting villains, he hadn't so much as _bruised_ a single gangbanger his entire time in Brockton.

After all her complaints had been ignored, after all her protests had been disregarded, after all the sense somehow evaporated out of everyone else's heads and Subjugglator was accepted into Wards ENE, Emily had been faced with a problem. She could try and keep a tight leash on the nutjob, and risk his going berserk in the middle of Protectorate HQ, or…

She could let him almost free reign to do as he pleased. Her misgivings were on file, on paper, formally lodged, even if unheeded. If Subjugglator went crazy out in the city, well, she had told them so! If he didn't go on another murder spree… well. He had shut down nearly every game in town, and no new games would be starting up with the slayer of Leviathan around. It was almost as good as having Eidolon living next door.

The overweight woman giggled a bit.

They _had_ Eidolon around, Subjugglator had eaten the fucktard, super-murdering, jagoff! The jury was still out on whether or not the Endbringers were truly done, but the Simurgh had gone quiescent, and Behemoth had stopped his rumbling, so it was looking good for the threat being well and truly over with. And now the (sort of)Triumvirate was living in her city, keeping crime down. She hadn't had to file an incident report for a week. A whole week!

A soft knock on her door reminded her to compose herself and she straightened up and took a calming breath before saying 'Enter.'

Candy corn horns poked around the door jam, followed by heather and eggplant hoodie, shaggy black hair, and a white and grey face.

"Director? 'Was wondering if you had a minute to get your chat on."

She nodded serenely to the young hero and he shuffled in and closed the door behind himself.

He was a little older today than his base age, somewhere closer to the low teens. He had been drifting a bit higher recently, but his Aura was still relatively undeveloped so the age-warping couldn't be maintained constantly. Dealing with him when he was older was a bit easier; Emily had been lucky not to get any toddler capes in the Wards ENE for she had heard more than one horror story from the other directors.

"Subjugglator. What can I do for you today?"

He smiled toothily, though even with the jagged teeth he still looked a little stoned. Apparently he had a breakthrough in his attempts to produce Sopor Slime to sleep in just a few days ago and the proper rest after so long was making him a little bit spacy.

The troll smirked as if reading her mind. He always seemed simultaneously surprised and intrigued by her, and Emily more than once caught him staring at her with a sort of awestruck perplexity that she had chosen to interpret as amusing rather than offensive. He always showed proper deference to the chain of command if nothing else.

"So, I had this little miracle rattling around in my thinkpan for a bit now. I didn't think you'd go for it since, you know, crazy murder times and such like, but now that hoofbeast is out of the livestock retainment block with me culling Eidolon, I figured you might not mind as much. I want to make some clones."

She quirked an eyebrow in polite inquiry.

"Of who? Not yourself, surely?"

He shook his head sending coarse, ebony strands of hair flailing about.

"Nah. 'M not so sure what I'm gonna do for reproduction in a few swee-uh, years, but nah. I was thinking Armsmaster and maybe Professor Haywire and String Theory to start with. Cranial, from Toy Box. Kid Win and Chariot, if'n they'll agree. Some other Tinkers. Thinkers too, Accord had some pretty big gene libraries, samples taken from a bunch of capes for when he got Blasto 'under control'."

He rolled his eyes.

"Bonesaw had done some preliminary work, and it seems like the miracle that which is a parahuman ability is tied almost exclusively to the genetic identity of the host what all has the corona and gemma. I don't even need to give them memories or personalities or anything, just enough motor control to push a button which'll all up and decapitate me. Then I'll get a copy of their powers."

Subjugglator smiled cheerfully at Director Piggot, as she thought for a moment.

Her gut response would be 'fuck the hell no' but why? How, exactly, would this make him more dangerous than he already was? Of course, _technically_ he would be a bit more of a hazard, but practically speaking? He would lose some of the strength he currently had with his proximal copy of Eidolon to the absorption of new hosts, and it wouldn't even properly involve killing anyone! Besides, she pulled a bottle of water from her Sylladex, he could use this to copy Masamune from the Guild, all of his kit would become mass producible!

She took a sip from the water before replying.

"Give me a list of all the capes you would like to clone, a prospectus on the probable risks of the technology, and a timetable on how long it will take to get started and reach completion. Would you be funding it yourself or would you like some Tinker budget allocated to you?"

Subjugglator nodded slowly.

"I can do that. I wouldn't say no to some extra moolah for it, but it shouldn't be too what is crippling financially. I can have that to you by tomorrow morning I expect. Would that be all?"

Piggot grinned sharply.

"Well, I suppose you would need approval from the Chief Director for something like this. Would you like me to talk to her for you?"

He smiled back, just as toothily.

"I think I can all up and persuade her to agree."

. . .

Mini Interlude - Rebecca Costa-Brown

Alexandria was abstaining from forming any opinion on Totoro Yagata at all, if she could help it. Her Thinker abilities were potent enough that she could generally be confident when identifying her own cognitive biases, and find them in others, and Subjugglator defied those expectations to an astonishing degree. Enough that she hadn't pushed for any modification in his treatment after absorbing Eidolon because she simply was _not sure how he would react_. It was a severely disquieting sensation.

The really irksome thing was that she could actually examine him with her enhanced cognition where most Thinkers were blind and she still couldn't model him. She had enough experience with traditional types of Thinker to regard the entire lot with scorn, and it was unsettling and upsetting to suddenly find herself in the same boat as those sorts of capes. They all relied far too heavily on their abilities and had little or no capacity to reason or think logically without the aid of parahuman powers. It was appalling how little actual _thought_ Thinkers used when doing _anything_. How many precogs would have benefitted from an understanding of even rudimentary probability theory? How many planners would have benefited from knowledge of normal human social behaviour?

Take that girl Tattletale, one of Totoro's earliest boons to the Protectorate. A powerful Thinker, at least a 7, maybe an 8 with more practice and some proper education. Totally convinced of her own superiority, despite all evidence to the contrary, contentious and adversarial with other Thinkers, but moldable. The girl's power improved logarithmically with the quality of information she had access to, but she hadn't taken a single class in advanced logic, game theory, social engineering, human behaviour, anything that might have given her _actual human brain_ better tools to help her use her Thinker power. Moron.

The only possible exceptions to the rule of fool were Number Man and Contessa, and she wasn't so confident about the latter, especially now that her Path was becoming increasingly spotty due to Jug's influence. But Rebecca had always held _herself_ as being somehow above that, of not being like 'them' since her power didn't try to give her knowledge ex nihilo or push her to certain conclusions, just made her better at processing information. She had often thought of herself, in private, of having the 'Common Sense' agent helping her along. Just good old Human thought sped up and multiplexed and boosted with perfect recall. Barely a 'Thinker' at all, the word was so synonymous with idiot savants.

She couldn't model the young troll though. She couldn't even make accurate assumptions of his _age_ , half the time he seemed like a three year old easily distracted by shiny objects, but then he'd begin talking about an issue like a college graduate. At first she had ascribed it to the extra personalities, it would be only reasonable that they modified his behaviour a little even if they couldn't compel him to action. But that didn't match up either; she had possessed a comprehensive psych profile of Accord before his consumption and though she occasionally glimpsed something that might have shared a kinship with the man, it was more plausibly explained as being part of the alien milieu that was Jug.

That was the problem really, all of her standard modeling templates were designed around humans and Jug emphatically was _not_ _human_. He _might_ have been human once, possibly, she got a bit of fuzz on that, but more likely he had merely absorbed a fair bit from his conquests. Subjugglator was an alien. One from a planet which shared a peculiar similarity in some respects to Earth, but which, overall, was highly divergent in culture and zeitgeist.

Take his disregard for human life for instance. She might expect such behaviour from a sociopath, or possibly a child soldier, or abuse victim, someone with traumatic psychological damage. But Totoro had friends, real friends, and a girlfriend _and_ a boyfriend. He wasn't _incapable_ of emotional attachment, he just didn't have a primate psychology that prioritized 'pack' over 'self'. Something derived from insects approaching, but not yet embracing, eusocial behaviour maybe?

Alexandria felt a rush of air leave her as she thought, disparaged by her own tentative hypothesis. She had found herself oddly enamoured with the prospect of a Kismesis, it was one of the few facets of Alternian culture she could almost wrap her head around, conceptually. Unlike Auspisticism; that just made no sense as it relied on emotions humans simply didn't posses. Kismesitude though; enticingly similar to the idea of an arch-rival, even if she had never quite achieved that with any villain in LA. Similar, but not the same, likely a result of convergent social-evolution, as Totoro had implied. Ontological paradoxes, how peculiar. Not beyond what science permitted, but it was still shocking when he pulled something out of his chute that was obviously organically arrived at but from a completely different direction, like the troll version of _Hitch_ , that stupid rom com which now featured quadrants and culling drones...

The differences might possibly be a result of non-homologous brain structure, she mused absently as she skimmed through her email. She should see what Panacea had to say about reading Jug, now that the girl was more stable.

She blinked as her computer alerted her of a new message. As she read, she felt a grim chill settle on her shoulders.

 **Private message from HaRsH wHiMsY:**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: How many vials do you have stockpiled?**

 **Costa-Brown: I suppose I should have expected this, David always was weak. I would have to check, but the last inventory I read was three weeks ago and listed 4273 vials prepared and in storage, ready for use. More or less. They have very low R values, you understand.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: How much of the Thinker's corpse remains to be rendered into such miracles?**

 **Costa-Brown: Again, I am not certain. Probably close to a cubic Kilometer. Why?**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: What all is the rate limiting step on how fast you can turn the fallen's flesh to fulfilling function?**

 **Costa-Brown: I am not directly involved in the process, I wouldn't know.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: ...**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Foolish.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Do you understand why I named thee Polyphemus?**

 **Costa-Brown: I have theories.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Silence was ever your chief virtue, alongside the cruelty to do almost all that what is necessary.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Among those who amuse themselves with such things, you are called The Cyclops, for you See but lack Vision.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: I imagine you can fathom who the Fool, the Virgin, and the Husk are?**

 **Costa-Brown: Eidolon, Legend, and Contessa.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: You can be taught new tricks! Praises be to the Mirthful Messiahs!**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Your aims will be better served in service to me. You sought to slay Superman with larger guns, when what you needed was kryptonite bullets.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Path to ensuring Teacher and Ingenue's total, honest, and earnest loyalty to Cauldron. Path to optimum testing strategy for determination of which Teacher granted Thinker abilities, boosted by Ingenue, can be best bent to optimized production and testing of vials. Path to rendering all available Eden tissue into vials as quickly and efficiently as possible, with as high an intrinsic O, R, and P value as possible, in that order.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: The Husk's precognition is nearly absolute, have her extract any human not on Bet or Aleph who would die in the next thirty seconds relative and give them to Teacher until his needs are fully satisfied.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: You have flailed desperately in the dark for far too long, mother of miseries. Now you will be bent to truer purpose.**

 **Costa-Brown: Your purpose I presume? Which is?**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Obvious. The humans of Earth have failed. Your culture will adapt.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Oh, and I need permission to begin cloning parahumans to harvest their Shards. Let Director Piggot know of your enthusiastic support of the idea.**

 **HaRsH wHiMsY: Don't disappoint me, or you can join the Fool in the pit.**

Rebecca Costa-Brown slumped in her seat, mind awhirl with possibilities.

How much did he know? Everything which David had known? Had he found a way to remedy the decay that Eidolon had been suffering? What would an intelligent, motivated, creative, and ambitious Eidolon do, at the peak of his power and with no Endbringers to distract himself? Was he planning to expand his religion more aggressively? Did he plan to enslave humanity?

She rejected the last option out of hand.

Subjugglator was many things, but he was not a liar. He cared for Missy Byron and Taylor Hebert, and had, if not care, then at least a vested interest in Dean Stansfield. He was unlikely to kill humans indiscriminately, and from the tentative overtures they had extended to the Heiress at her villa near the Mediterranean, the other Troll would likely oppose such a policy anyway, though the limits of the control she could impose on Subjugglator were hazy.

Your culture will adapt; ' _to service us_ ', was the rest of the quote. Said by the Borg, in the Earth Aleph reboot of the Star Trek series. She was fond enough of the original she had watched several episodes of the sequel. How much of that was serious on Subjugglator's part, and how much was intentional misdirection? Did he view _himself_ as the Borg, or merely enjoy the eloquence of the line? Did he intend to convert humanity into a replica of his home culture? How did he model Rebecca? Was he actively predicting her responses or merely arranging events to enhance the likelihood of certain outcomes?

She pored over every word of the conversation, the first real one she had had with the troll, short as it was, trying to determine which of his statements were meant to be taken literally, which were figurative, which were metaphorical, which were supposed to be evaluated at level one, at two, at N+1, which were aimed at her cape persona, which were aimed at her civilian life, which were aimed at her as an agent of Cauldron, which likely conclusions were laid out for her, which were placed so that the manner by which she reached them would shift her thinking, which...

The strongest woman on Earth sat in her office and stared at the Los Angeles skyline as the sun set and the lights dimmed with nothing but questions.

. . .

 **PRT INTERNAL MEMO 9-23-2011**

 **RE:SUBJUGGLATOR**

 **Name** : Totoro Yagata, Subjugglator

 **Affiliation** : Hero, Wards ENE

 **Classification** : Trump 12+, Brute/Master 10, Stranger/Trump 4

 **Location** : Brockton Bay

 **General Information** : Subjugglator is the first Case 53 definitively identified as an alien; home planet: Alternia. He is a grey skinned humanoid with black hair and prominent red and orange horns similar to those of a Puku antelope. He is of approximately 9 years of physical age, but has the ability to modify his personal time to appear significantly older. He is currently engaged in romantic relationships with several members of the Wards ENE, specifically: Vista (see file 37B-33a.21), his Moirail; Weaver (see file 37B-52e.11b), his Matesprit; and Gallant (see file 37B-47h.05d), his Kismesis. (For a full detailing of the Alternian Romantic Quadrants within which these relationships occur see file 208A-03c.02n)

 **Personality** : Due to the nature of his powers and his alien psychology Subjugglator may often appear erratic in his behaviour. He is personally indifferent to the welfare of normal humans except inasmuch as it is part of his duties as a Ward, though he has expressed a fondness for children and is respectful and obedient to his non-cape superiors in the PRT. He will become progressively more agitated if separated from Vista for long periods of time which can cullminate in an episode of extreme anxiety or rage. He has a pronounced drive to collect powers which he has been willing to moderate in deference to moral and legal considerations. He has expressed a strong antipathy towards all forms of lying and deceit. Overall he is described as cheerful, helpful, and generally friendly, but slightly morbid. He has a fondness for black humor and very sweet foods, including softdrinks which form an integral part of his religion (see file R141-03c.02n).

 **Powers** : Due to his Trump nature specifics will vary widely from one encounter to another.

Trump 12+: Subjugglator has the ability to permanently acquire the abilities of other parahumans. The strength of the copy is atrophied, but is estimated to lie somewhere in the range of 30-45% of the original. Unlike other power copiers such as the Fairy Queen, Subjugglator can use all of his abilities simultaneously, meaning that even modest powers can be amplified and augmented by other synergistic skills to extreme heights. A prime example of this is his Shaker sub-classification, which relies strongly on three particularly strong capes whose powers combined to devastating effect, specifically Abyss (22M-99c.33m), Citrine (35B-62a.09t), and the First Blasphemy (E.071M-S11.01a). In his own words the effect is a 'necrotizing black hole' and caused significant damage to Leviathan during the Endbringer's attack on Brockton Bay. Additionally, though his copy of Eidolon is limited to only two (2) powers at a time and the powers charge much more slowly than previously recorded, they are always chosen well in advance of any confrontation and always amplify, enhance, modulate, or otherwise strengthen existing abilities to a minimum rating of 12. Subjugglator is never seen to fight with less than approximately a dozen abilities simultaneously and he can be assumed to have a minimum rating of 10 in all categories at all times.

Notable abilities include, but are in no way limited to: silicakinesis, hydrokinesis, pyrokinesis, sonokinesis, biokinesis, hemokinesis, telekinesis, precognition, hypercognition, empathic sense, invisibility, flight, teleportation, high speed movement, the ability to suppress powers, the ability to amplify powers, the ability to modify powers, selective invulnerability, a wide variety of projections and minions, the ability to induce compulsions via eye contact or audible vectors, and the ability to create several varieties of extremely advanced technology.

Subjugglator is the source of Aura, a contagious Trump effect which has spread to the majority of the Protectorate and Wards, as well as affiliated hero teams.

Brute/Master 10: Subjugglator is functionally unkillable. Besides his immense level of damage resistance and regeneration capacity derived from multiple sources he also possesses a form of parahuman parasitism that allows his consciousness to jump to and posses whoever kills him. This ability shares a pronounced similarity to that of the Butcher (see file 35B-35d.05s), with the caveat that Subjugglator is always the dominant personality, even reformatting the host physically making it identical to his original body. He is able to retrieve information from past and current hosts and while they can attempt to talk to him and persuade him to certain courses of behaviour he can choose to ignore them and generally does so.

It is possible that if killed by a non-parahuman that he would be unable to jump, however this is rated at a low probability. More likely he would jump to the parahuman subject in closest physical proximity.

Stranger/Trump 4: Subjugglator is invisible to all forms of precognition, postcognition, clairvoyance, empathic sense, and many other Thinker abilities, often described as a 'divide by zero error' when attempts are made to gather information about him. A few types of Thinker ability that rely on hyper accurate body language interpretation, mathematical modeling, enhanced cognitive states, etc are useable.

 **Notes** : After absorbing the Three Blasphemies as part of his agreement to enter the Wards, Subjugglator generated a new body or some form of power assisted clone/progeny. The entity, identifying herself as the Heiress (see file E.192S-T08.02b), has been friendly, if somewhat apathetic, in her dealings with Protectorate envoys. Subjugglator has shown extreme reticence to speak of this event and a pronounced deference to the Heiress' wishes, though she has yet to impose any orders on him. It is unknown if the link goes both ways, thus insuring Subjugglator's and the Heiress' survival even if one is permanently killed via a similar reconstitution function to the original Three Blasphemies. The Heiress is the only other member of the Troll species known to exist on Earth Bet.

Subjugglator has begun using his Tinker abilities to generate clones of powerful parahumans, alive and dead, several of which were previously unknown to the PRT or Protectorate and may have originated on alternate Earths. A full listing of assimilated capes is available (see file S74-T03.90h).

 **Recommended Strategies** : Subjugglator's primary reason for joining the Wards ENE was his desire to continue association with Vista. In the event that he is compromised or becomes enraged Vista should be located and brought to his location as soon as possible to 'shoosh' him. In the event of Vista's death, Weaver is to be located. In the event of Weaver's death, Gallant is to be located. In the event that all of his romantic partners are dead, any and every cape he has ever had a positive association with is to be located and should attempt to pacify him. If he cannot be placated, the area should be evacuated up to a radius of one hundred (100) kilometers. Long range Master/Stranger effects may be viable, however Thinker estimate places a very low likelihood of success on this option. No other known countermeasures are considered feasible at this time save perhaps intervention by Scion.

~0~o~0~

Notes: so...

Piggot has a teensy tiny psychotic break

Cauldron is dumb and trolling thinkers is fun

Threat rating: ...Fuck. Run?

To those who haven't read Homestuck: a fetch modus is the structure which defines how objects are stored in the syladex. The easiest to use is the Array modus, which allows you to take objects from any position at will. Tree is a bit trickier to use, as it only allows you to pick from a selection of objects located on the top 'branches' of the tree, and where objects go is not as intuitive. The more complicated the Fetch Modus, the more objects you can store though, so if you're hip to data structures, something like the Tree modus is pretty chill.


	8. 1-7 Maddison Clements

Madison glanced down at the invitation in her hands, then back up at the entrance to the Palanquin. The club was likely packed something other; it was Halloween and Subjugglator had booked the place for a private venue. She could never have gotten in normally, and even in a ball gown and masquerade mask she felt a little underdressed.

She glanced down at the letter in her hand.

 _Specific Protagonist, aka Madison Clements_

 _You are cordially invited to the celebration of 11th Perigee's Dawning, locally celebrated as All Hallow's Eve, at The Palanquin._

 _Costumes are available at the venue on request._

 _Totoro Yagata_

 _The Subjugglator_

It had arrived in her mailbox with no return address or stamps in a rather fancy envelope of thick paper. She had been wary initially that it might be a trick, after all, how would Jug even know who she was?, but the ticket inside was pretty authentic looking, and listed her as a VIP.

Madison had followed Jug's exploits with great interest; Case 53s and mutated capes were sort of a hobby of hers, and the Troll was pretty darn cute for a mass murderer. Then he had joined the Wards and it became way more acceptable to creep on him. Not that she let anybody know about that; the only tacit acknowledgement of her minor obsession was the prints of his art that adorned the walls of her bedroom.

She took a steadying breath before approaching the front door. The bouncer was a big guy in a thick hoody, and she gasped a little and emitted a hastily muffled 'squee' of exhilaration to see that it was Gregor the Snail! He was pretty awesome too, but his mutations were a little bit unaesthetic or her tastes. The Cape blinked placidly at her from the depths of his hood and she noted that his shell like growths were different, they appeared less haphazardly placed now and the effect was not wholly unpleasant, though she could still see the bones under his skin. It took her a moment to realize he was saying something.

"Oh, gosh, sorry, yeah, here's my ticket, I got it in the mail so… Sorry. I was just admiring your shells. They look different, did you get some work done?"

The Case 53 raised a bemused eyebrow and nodded gently as he scanned her ticket with a device pulled from a pocket.

"Subjugglator has been most accommodating, thought he cannot remedy every ill. Your ticket is valid. It should be worn in a prominent position. Please, enjoy."

She blushed in embarrassment and walked past him quickly, pinning the ticket to her chest with the little velcro like hooks on its reverse side. She forgot sometimes that not everyone was as into body modification. Not that Gregor had much room to complain really, seeing as he was still basically human. More than one 53 was completely incapable of ever having a normal life thanks to their abnormalities; Gregor could pretend or wear baggy clothing at least.

She paused for a moment as she moved into the vibrant interior of the club and gaped at the dance floor visible a few steps down from the entrance. Was that _Jack Slash_? Or, no, It was just Jug, shape shifting and dancing with… Bonesaw now? What the…?

Oh. The music.

~But I will never forget you~

~And you will always be by my side~

~Till the day I die~

That was… weird and pretty morbid, but it made sense, she supposed. He was flipping from partner to partner pretty quickly now; that was all the Slaughterhouse 9, that was some of the Fallen, the Butcher, some people she didn't recognize, Glory Girl, ohh that was a bit in poor taste, Lung… Huh. All of the Carnival?

Yeah that made a sort of sense. Thematically appropriate, Halloween, the recognition of the dead etc. Pretty good song too, though she didn't recognize it. Ahh, that was Jug in the DJ booth too, and Jug at the bar, and… there were a few of him around actually; the line outside had been huge but the interior of the club wasn't quite as stifled with people as she feared, there was still some room to move around. Lots of capes. Or maybe just people dressed like capes? Some of them were almost certainly 53s; that looked like Weld over in the corner talking to Newter. Neat.

"Hey there pretty lady. Protagonist, yeah? Glad you could make it."

Madison jumped at the sudden sound coming from slightly behind her shoulder. She spun to see Jug standing there, currently aged up a little to be just a touch younger than her, giving her a slightly sinister smile (although that may have just been the face paint, he was going for a sort of ornate candy skull thing tonight with some additional colors on top of the traditional white and grey, it was cool but a bit frightening).

"Got something what all is special for you in a little bit, but hey, why don't you walk around, get some wicked elixer all up ins, then hit me up in like, an hour or two? Kay? Peace!"

He was gone before she could do more than give him a slightly nervous smile. He had a present just for her? That was super cool! Also really creepy. But mostly cool! Although it again begged the question of how Subjugglator even knew who the heck she was.

She mulled over the problem and wandered over to the bar, where another Jug, this one aged old enough to be in his lates teens, and huge and gawky as a result, was mixing drinks. The menu listed several non alcoholic beverages, and a few which seemed to either be straight up alien, or possibly included tinker-tech narcotics. They were even graded by intensity, several were listed as only having a mild euphoric effect similar to alcohol, but without the liver damage and intoxication.

She scanned the list for a few minutes, uncertain what exactly she should get. A figure a little ways down the bar leaned over and pointed at an entry a little lower on the list.

"Try the Fruity Rumpus. Its pretty tasty, and the side effects don't last very long, if you're not into that sort of thing."

Madison turned to respond and her mouth fell open as she saw Mouse- _Fucking_ -Protector giving her gobsmacked expression a little smile in return. Her mouth snapped shut with a click, and she was grateful her mask hid some of her cheeks for it hopefully helped disguise her roaring blush.

"Ooh! VIP, huh? Very swank! Hmm, don't think I recognize you though, you a local? Quite a collection Jug invited huh? A fair few dastardly villains to help balance out the chivalrous heroes. Or was it the other way around? Well, I think I see the Underminer over there, so I'll let you get your order. Hey! Whack-a-Mole!"

The girl's expression slowly shifted to one of chagrined horror at the way the her dressed as a mouse dressed as Donald Duck began to harass a cringing cape at the other end of the bar. The Jug clone at the bar chuckled dryly and gave her another little start as she turned back to him.

"Um, hi, I guess I'll have a Fruity Rumpus? Um, do I pay now or…"

The shaggy head of hair swung back and forth in negation, and a long finger pointed at the little yellow stub of the VIP ticket pinned to her shirt.

"On the house, for special guests. Here you go."

Suitably equipped with a faintly glowing drink in her hand, she made her way towards the dance floor. Yeah, a few of these people were definitely capes, she recognized Uber from the little goatee, dressed as Mario because of course, and the person in the Luigi costume was probably Leet. They were somehow slow dancing successfully to dubstep, which was an achievement in itself, but she was also privately pleased that they were being open about it. She had always shipped them.

"Hey Madison. Sexy dress!"

She cringed a bit before turning to face her addressee. Oh god, how had Greg gotten in here? She smiled stiffly in reply, though anyone with a lick of sense would have noticed she was intensely uncomfortable.

"Greg! Fancy seeing you here. Well, nice talking to you, but I have to go and ask Weld about what sort of polish he uses, see you!"

She tried to wiggle away, but her dress was honestly a bit puffy, and she couldn't quite squeeze through the gaps in the crowd fast enough to get away from the insufferable nerd.

"Oh cool! You know, I heard that Jug was going to be opening a wormhole to the home planets of all the other Case 53's so that they can be with their own species."

She twitched at the nonsense and fought the urge to correct the stupidity as she squished between a pair dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, but eventually failed to maintain her cool silence.

"Subjugglator isn't a Case 53, remember? He doesn't have the tattoo or anything. He remembers his home planet, every other 53 used to be human. He hasn't made any statements about where they came from, or demonstrated that sort of Mover ability."

Greg snorted and kept obliviously chasing her through the crowded club.

"Oh come on, that's obviously a cover; some conspiracy must have been kidnapping aliens to try and make their own capes and Jug was just the one that got away before they could mind wipe him. Besides, he ate Eidolon, he could totally build a wormhole. _And_ , he cloned Haywire like a month ago, he can't totes do it even without Eidolon."

She paused for a moment. She had forgotten that. Jug was the first generally acknowledged Tinker 12; it was within his capacity,with a bit of work, to make wormholes to other planets. Being caught wrong in such a minor detail just made the rest of the verbal diarrhea smell worse though. Conspiracy, indeed. Fucking tinfoil hat wearing nerd.

"Most 53s still have some memories of being human, even if they're faint. Not aliens. Confirmed by Panacea, even if she can't risk fiddling with the weird biology. And that's ignoring non 53 capes who gained mutations from their powers like Narwhal. She was only 5'9" before she triggered. Now she's what. 6'11"? Taller in costume, with her force fields. Or Alabaster, he wasn't an albino before. Why don't you take your theories back to the tinfoil hat forum with the rest of the nut jobs?"

Now Greg looked a bit angry. It wasn't a good look for him, especially in… what was that, a cowboy costume? What was he six? He looked like an idiot, anyway.

"I don't even know why you're here if you were just going to perv on the Cases, _Specific Protagonist_ , going to ask Weld what sort of objects he can extrude again?"

She flushed in embarrassment as he reminded her of that particular bad decision. She had been new to PHO, it happens! Everyone makes mistakes! Besides, Weld had been cool about it, and the Mods had only given her an infraction. She glanced around furtively before getting up in Greg's face to hiss her response.

"At least I haven't gotten banned for trying to blab about secret identities nearly a dozen times. Are you actively suicidal, or just retarded?"

Greg sneered back.

"I might be cursed with a good eye for faces, but you're the only one here who's actually made someone trigger. And who was it again? Oh thats right, Jug's Matesprit. Three guesses why he wanted you to stop by."

Madison paled suddenly. She hadn't made that particular connection. It wasn't common knowledge or anything, but even an idiot could figure out what had happened. Sophia goes to Juvie, Emma gets expelled, Madison is in house suspended for a month, a new Ward appears, Taylor transfers to Arcadia, Shadow Stalker gets 'transferred out of state' and is never seen or heard from again. That hair was insanely distinct, Taylor should have thought more about her costume design.

She was just glad that she hadn't woken up one day being eaten alive by insects. It was almost unfathomable to her how much self control Taylor had, particularly with such an indirect ability. All it would have taken was a few black widows hiding in Madison's backpack one day, just a tragic accident, so sad, oh well.

Trigger events weren't exactly common knowledge to most people, the average schmoe probably though in terms of 'origin stories'. Like it wasn't real, like having your parents murdered in front of you when you were eight just… I dunno, made you _super dedicated_ to fighting crime, and didn't leave you _terribly mentally scarred for decades_. When she thought back to what she had helped happen to Taylor she threw up, and even now thinking about what it must have been like, stuck in a tiny hole, filled with bugs crawling all over her, screaming and screaming with nobody coming… It made sense that the Protectorate tried to downplay the whole thing; it wouldn't fill the public with confidence if they knew that heroes like Alexandria probably had serious psychological trauma.

Her mouth tightened and she began to lift her drink to throw it into Greg's stupid acne riddled face when she felt a calming hand on her shoulder.

"Hey guys, maybe not on the dance floor? Heh. I was planning on making it all up and a surprise, but maybe ya'll should just follow me now."

Her blood ran cold as she recognized Subjugglator's raspy bass. She lowered the drink, then thought better of it and drained the whole thing before following the now a bit older than her cape towards a back room. Only then did it click that Veder was following them, and she felt her spirits lift a bit at the thought that their host was unlikely to have a cause to murder him, even if Greg was a massive dingus. Though it did beg the question anew of why she, and apparently Greg of all people, warranted special tickets to this event, for she could see the small yellow VIP pinned under the sherrif's badge under the 'cowboy' duster.

The room Jug led them to was blessedly quiet, though it was a bit colder than Madison found pleasant. She looked around curiously and noted with interest the large grey and green mass in one corner. Was that a recuperacoon? Was this Jug's bedroom? Wow. That was… again sort of creepy, but kind of cool. Probably not many people had been in here before.

She blushed. Except maybe Gallant. Oh they were just so _dreamy_ together…

Jug plopped himself down on a pile of cushions and plushies and gestured for them to do the same, though both Madison and Greg opted for more ordinary chairs (she noted with disdain that the nerd was sitting in his backwards, with his arms thrown out like a total douche nozzle wanna-be gangster). They got settled quickly enough, but the Troll simply looked at them both intently for a long moment, one hand idly tracing the mouth of one of the plushies beneath him. She recognized a few of the fluffy animals, but the one Jug was fiddling with looked like some sort of white whale, and she wondered for a brief moment if he might be thinking of his lusus back home.

When he finally moved it was with enough speed to make her jump a little.

"So. Specific Protagonist, and Void Cowboy. Madison Clements, and Gregory Veder. The girl who made the locker, and the boy who did nothing to stop it."

Madison was suddenly a lot less sure that she would be leaving here alive. Would anyone even investigate? Or would it be like the locker all over again, inquiries deflected the moment a Ward got involved. Heck, the Protectorate would probably actively cover it up, Jug was the fucking _Endslayer_ , no one was going to piss him off if they could pretend everything was still normal...

Jug grinned, no doubt sensing her emotions, the action exposing predator's teeth and she could hear a faint gulping sound from beside her. At least she could die knowing Greg was a tool as well. Well, wasn't that a happy though?

A sudden clap and she did actually startle almost enough to fall out of the chair.

"But that's all in the past! Tonight we're talking about that what is the future!"

The troll blinked over to a heavy case sitting on the desk across from them and flipped open the catches with a resounding click. From within he drew two faintly glowing vials, one orange and the other a soft blue-green, both of which had threads of purple forming veins through their contents. He tossed one gently to each of the humans, who caught them with varying degrees of grace. Madison sniffed as Greg fumbled a little bit with the small containers; what a dweeb. Weren't boys supposed to be good at that sort of thing?

"So. You both have that which is my attention. For one reason," Jug looked at her with heavily lidded eyes, "or another." he glanced over at Greg.

"Now, I talked to Taylor, and she basically forgives ya'll for being a massive bitch, and a coward, respectively. Now, I might be feeling a little bit less of the Messiah's own mercy towards such specimens as yourselves, but I was struck by a sudden mood what all is a touch fey, as they call it. So I thought I'd give ya'll something of a gift instead; after all, if you hadn't done what you done did, I wouldn't have my fine ass Matesprit now, would I?"

He waved a lazy hand at the vials.

"These here are very special little gulps of wicked elixer. That what is particular fine about them, is that they'll force you to grow a gemma. You know what that means, right?"

Madison stared at the little glowing amber vial with her mouth agape. This could _give_ people powers? She heard an enthusiastic fist pump coming from the chair next to her and she stifled a moan as she covered her face with a hand; Greg would be insufferable after this.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Fucking Cauldron! I so totally called it! And Jug's probably way up in the hierarchy and helping them turn Leviathan and the other Endbringers into bottled super powers! Fuck yes!"

She was gratified to see that Jug was giving Greg a skeptical look as well, but there was less bemusement and more concern than she would have like to see in the expression.

"I can neither confirm nor deny any such claims, but word of advice? I wouldn't spread that around if'n I was ya'll. Anyone asks, after you had too much punch you thought I was going to eat you when I brought you back here. I don't agree with everything Cauldron does, but keeping this a secret was definitely a reasonable call. They _will_ kill your ass if you blab, or make you wish you were dead."

She raised a tentative hand and Jug gave her an amused look. She lowered the hand and coughed slightly in embarrassment, but asked her question anyway.

"So, are Case 53s actually aliens then? Like you?"

Jug shook his head, but gave a little hand waffle as well.

"Not technically. The vials don't have the same… 'safeties' that ordinary capes get. Cost of being harvested from a _dead_ god, rather than a live one. Mutations happen, call back to that what the shard was made of. Fatalities happen, though less now that they've fixed the formula up some."

The Troll snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Would you believe they had basically no system? Just like, five guys in lab coats slicing off bits and grinding them into goo to see what would happen. Got that much more streamlined now. Mother Fuckin' morons."

He waved at the vials again.

"Anyway, like I said. Not risk free. I gave it a little something of my own, drip-drop straight from the tap, but even I can't see what all will happen with perfect clarity. Prolly wont kill ya, but probably will change you, at least a little."

Madison looked at the vial in her hands consideringly. This was… more than she could ever have hoped for. Gaining powers was the ultimate form of personal protection in the modern world, an invisible gun that no one could ever take away from you. It would keep her safe, more than being rich, or pretty, or having powerful friends ever could. And she would be _different_. She knew guys thought she was cute, and honestly she could see what they meant, but she had never really felt at home in her own skin, never felt that the soft pink thing in the mirror was really her. Just one of the billion some odd other humans wandering around, totally interchangeable, could she even say it was her body if it was so similar to every other? If she was so similar to everyone else, how did she even know she really existed? What if she was just the occasional hallucination of the 99%, a transient fantasy temporarily clad in flesh? With _this_ , she would be unique, she could be certain of herself, she would be-

A loud pop and a yelp broke her out of her reverie and she turned sharply to see Greg had pulled the cork out of his vial with enough force to hit himself in the face. She scowled at him and he huffed indignantly, a spot of color on his pasty cheeks.

"What? It was sticky! Besides, there's no way you aren't going to do it too."

She rolled her eyes but pulled the little rubber stopper out of the vial with more care. Taking a deep breath she exchanged a quick look with Greg, and they both downed the solution in a single gulp.

Madison took a deep breath, her eyes clenched, waiting for something to happen. After a second, she cracked an eye and blinked at the vial, wondering if something had gone wrong. A soft snigger broke her concentration and she glanced up at Subjugglator. Her heart fell at his wide smile. Had it all been a joke? Was it just-

Two enormous beings, casting off pieces of themselves, a fragment getting closer and closer to her and-

She coughed and tasted yellow.

Madison shook her head at the weird sensation and almost lost her balance as something heavy shifted. An exploratory hand led to the discovery of something protruding from her skull were before there had been nothing; long, smooth protrusions emerging from her hair.

She was in front of the mirror on the wall in an instant.

She was a Troll!

Long black hair, lovely dove grey skin, sweeping orange horns like elk horns crossed with moth antennae. She cooed appreciatively and stroked the keratin with a hesitant hand, shivering into the odd sensations transmitted by the brand new appendages. She couldn't suppress a tiny squee.

They were sensitive! Everyone on the forums was going to be so jealous!

A 'floomph' from behind her, and suddenly the uncomfortable pressure at the back of her dress was eased and a pair of gossamer orange butterfly wings unfurled. She couldn't restrain the loud squeal of delight that burst from her squawk blister at the sight. She could fly! Maybe!

A groan caught her attention and she spun to face her fellow newly minted para-... troll? Oh well, she might not be unique, but she was was still prettier than Greg; his horns were kind of mismatched and wobbly looking, and just obscenely big, curling back like an Ibex's. She couldn't help the laugh that burst out at the sight of him wobbling back and forth under the unexpected weight.

He scowled at her with his mouth full of needle teeth and a return hiss of aggression bubbled from her unbidden. Greg's mouth drew open even wider, but before… _something_ , could happen, Jug was between them giving them both unimpressed looks. She huffed and turned back to admiring herself in the mirror, but a flush of pale bronze rose to her cheeks. A tingle of some foreign emotion made her turn back and cross her arms reluctantly, giving Totoro a nod of acknowledgment. Greg seemed to be feeling similarly, cheeks tinged with a pale blue as he pouted, hands in pockets and dumb cowboy hat forgotten on the floor.

Jug placed a hand on both their shoulders and smiled brightly.

"Serendipity!"

~0~o~0~

Notes: Originally this was going to be a mini and part of the other set of minis, but then it got to 3k words and I was like 'nah'. So, still a bit on the shorter side, but this fic is nearly done already so...

Anyway, this is still in 2011, not the next year or whatever.

Oh! Also, MP survived because the S9 bit it before they could turn her into Murder Rat. Because that was just excessively grimdark, seriously.

Next chapter is going to be the penultimate, let me know if you'd prefer a PHO interlude, or a Taylor interlude.


	9. PHO Interlude 2

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Topic: Word of the Messiahs I

In: Boards ► Creative ► Creative Writing ► Cape Authored

HaRsH_wHiMsY (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

Posted on April 25, 2011:

Before there was time, before there was anything, there was nothing. And before there was nothing, there were monsters.

They were the Gods of the Furthest Ring, who gazed upon the infinity of absence.

There is no record of which first spoke and filled the Void with Light, but it spread, and there was. Space and Time came to be, and within the Breath diffused and where it went the Blood answered. Thus was called forth Life, and the Heart to inhabit it. Thus was called forth Rage and the Mind to temper it. And thus was born Doom, for all things must end, and Hope, for nothing dies forever.

In the darkened fringes of that place, thems what were the Messiahs watched the churning expanse and laughed, for from these base aspects did thinking beings emerge, and from thought was brought forth suffering.

As is their nature, these bawdy Minstrels did desire to play a game, a game of universes, and worlds, and untold lives.

Their harsh whimsy was cruel, but not without that which is compensation, for from the suffering of mortals did they distill the Wicked Elixer which showers down in the Dark Carnival for eternity, and of which we only taste a faint, blessed echo across the endless stretches of Paradox Space.

And the Mirthful Messiahs were not unfair, for unto each was given a chance, and a choice. Each world, each cosmos, each player of the game, all in kind.

Should a player fall, they would be reborn into the Carnival, to party eternal. Should a world fall, it would be forged anew, harder and fiercer, to play the game again. Should a universe fall, its corpse would be the ground for new growth to spring forth, endless variety in endless cycle.

Rejoice, for you are the pawn of vicious gods, and thus is the life of each transient player of the game given purpose.

(Showing Page 2 of 5)

► MarakaMakara

Replied on January 1, 2000:

I still think it's a little weird that they allow this in creative writing. I mean, this is his literal religion, right?

► TheCreeper

Replied on April 25, 2011:

Well, there isn't really anywhere else to put it. I guess they don't want to piss him off by not allowing him to post it, and since it isn't an 'established' religion it isn't against the terms of service so...

Anyway, if we look at this from an objective standpoint, it's not such an uncommon creation myth. Similar to the Greek pantheon, kind of. A formless void which then had order imposed on it to build things.

Of course, then it kind of swings into crazy town, so...

► Alucard (Verified Zombie)

Replied on April 25, 2011:

I guess it makes some sense. In christian mythology, suffering is either a trial by god, or punishment for sin. It sounds like the Messiahs turn it into... Faygo.

...Yeah Jug is nuts.

► BoilMorty (Cape Husband) (Haven)

Replied on April 25, 2011:

I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss something just because it sounds silly. Christianity uses bread and wine for symbolic purposes even now that they are no longer precious and essential commodities.

Maybe on Alternia Faygo was historically significant for some reason? We don't know everything so we shouldn't presume to judge other's beliefs.

► Orion's Pants (Cape Son)

Replied on April 25, 2011:

I've gotten banned once already for calling this guy out, so I'm not going to say anything other than to point out that his religion is based around suffering. This is not the sort of person we should be having in the Wards.

► HemoConiseour

Replied on April 25, 2011:

Blood is one of the twelve base components of reality, the force which connects us together, and sets us apart as individuals.

Fucking. Called it.

► CuttlefishCuddler (Cape Groupie)

Replied on April 25, 2011:

I find it kind of uplifting, actually. Life is pain, but not without meaning or purpose.

► DukePliant

Replied on April 25, 2011:

Yeah, the purpose of making a shitty soft drink.

► Kismet (Verified Cape)

Replied on April 25, 2011:

Blasphemy!

► LightningMan (Unverified Cape)

Replied on April 25, 2011:

See, the thing that worries me is that I'm not sure if Kismet is joking or not.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Topic: Contrasting Parahumans and Trolls, an analysis

In: Boards ► Capes ► Powers ► Power Discussion

Socrates's Cat (Original Poster) (Verified Insightful)

Posted on May 6, 2011:

Drawing major conclusions about anything related to parahumans is of course a risky business; practically every week does someone arise whose powers seem to make all previous theories irrelevant. However, broad conclusions can still be drawn. Some effects have proven consistent, even if not universal, such as the Manton affect, the heritability of powers, and the importance of a Corona Gemma and Pollentia.

We'll start with the last item first.

Every serious study of capes begins at this point, the Gemma and Pollentia, because it is an obvious anatomical difference between normal humans and Parahumans. While it is still not clear exactly how these nodes work to generate super powers, no ordinary cape has been found without them, and all humanoid Case 53's possess these features as well. The general consensus of the scientific community is that a certain portion of humans are born with the Pollentia, and that given adequate stimulus a Gemma forms enabling the use of parahuman abilities.

The Alternian Troll, particularly the current member of the Wards ENE Subjugglator, does not posses this lobe. Assuming the facts as they have been given to us are accurate, and we have no reason to assume they aren't, troll abilities are a naturally occurring phenomenon. While MRI has shown Subjugglator to have minor differences in brain structure, there is no indication that he possesses any structure analogous to the Gemma or Pollentia. His own comments on the subject indicate that abilities similar to those he has displayed, and to some known parahuman abilities, are something an individual is born with and needs to learn to use, and exercises like any other muscle. There is no trigger event, there is no moment of inspiration, and there is no intuitive understanding of the power in question.

This clicks neatly with the inheritability of powers. Since the ability is biological in nature, rather than some what extra biological as seems to be the case with parahumans, trolls have a rather wide variety of abilities. However, all of these abilities fit to the general theme of 'psychic'. The Heiress has the most potent ability known to their species, a very high level Master/Trump that allows her to seize control of the minds and powers of even very distant targets. Telekinesis and limited forms of precognition are also fairly common, and the caste Jug belongs to is known for a broadcast empathic ability. Despite these similarities though, the specifics of the inheritance are somewhat muddled. While an individual might possess a slightly stronger or weaker version of an ability, it is often difficult to trace a direct source for the genetic material. In the instance where a specific Ancestor is highly probable, one of the tells will be that the troll in question has the exact same abilities, complete with any limitations the prior power had.

This is very distinct from parahumans. While the sample size is relatively small, there has never been a second generation cape that did not gain powers, and their powers will always be in the same theme as their parent. The variation from generation to generation seems highly organic in nature, with a sort of meandering walk around a central idea expressed in new variations.

Unfortunately, this problem is admittedly muddied by the stringent eugenics program on Alternia; it is possible more variation would arise if mutants were not culled so adroitly.

The largest difference between the two classes of para-being however is likely the Manton limit. Most parahumans are incapable of using their abilities on a live target; or of using their abilities on anything *other* than a live target. There are a very small pool of exceptions, and many of those would seem to have extenuating circumstances such as Narwhal's rumored second trigger.

Trolls have no such limitations. A telekinetic could just as easily crush your head with a brick as they could crush your heart in your chest. The sole saving grace of the species is that the higher castes posses an intrinsic resistance to 'psychic powers' which prevents wholesale slaughter.

We may never known the origin of parahuman abilities, but it seems clearer than ever that Earth is a special place.

(Showing Page 6 of 9)

► Xx_Void Cowboy_xX (Temp-Banned)

Replied on May 6, 2011:

USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST

► Ferrous Father (Moderator)

Replied on May 6, 2011:

Okay, I know talking about powers can be exciting, but seriously Void, you've been warned about taking this stuff off the versus forums on more than one occasion. Take a little while to think about what constitutes appropriate discussion for this thread.

► Heliopolis

Replied on May 6, 2011:

Thank you mods!

Geez that guy is crazy.

Anyway, back on topic, my personal theory is that trolls are what parahumans would become after a hundred generations or so. I mean, think about it. The corona gets subsumed into the rest of the brain tissue, and all powers get distilled down to a certain core few which are 'triggered' in the egg (or whatever). Second gen capes trigger way easier, how easy would a 50th gen cape have it?

► Solomons Orchard (Power Guru)

Replied on May 6, 2011:

See, that theory sounds okay up until you get to the part about why troll's have so few powers.

They don't have real Strangers, or Changers, or Strikers, or Tinkers, or proper Trumps. Everyone has a Brute rating, which goes up with caste. They have Masters, but not the minion generating kind. They have Blasters, but only of a sort of generic psychic energy type, no pyrokinesis or freezing rays or whatever. They have Thinkers, but only precogs and post cogs. They have Shakers, but really only telekinetics, who are also the only Movers.

I'm not saying it's wrong, we might find out that those particular powers are the ones easiest to 'breed true' or whatever (and of course, eugenics so...) but it does seem like a categorical difference, rather than merely a variation on the general theme of parahuman weirdness mapped onto a similar species.

► Setsunaaaaaaa (Cape Groupie)

Replied on May 6, 2011:

I wonder if trolls can interbreed with humans?

► Plwrthnf

Replied on May 6, 2011:

I think that treads pretty close to the line of inappropriateness, but the mods seem okay with it so...

No. Almost certainly not. That isn't to say that a good Tinker might not be able to work something out, of course, but...

Biology doesn't work that way except in sci-fi.

► Narcoleptin

Replied on May 6, 2011:

The thing I find the weirdest is the lack of Manton limits.

Most parahuman abilities are best suited at combat applications, but some troll abilities seem less suited for that role than the average parahuman ability. And yet they have the ostensibly more dangerous power sets!

Telekinetics that can just reach into your chest and stop your heart are terrifying!

► Assault (Verified Cape) (Protectorate ENE)

Replied on May 6, 2011:

Setsunaaaaaaaa: i actually talked with Jug about his species' reproductive habits, and i can say with absolute certainty: NOOOOOOOOO. He finds human reproduction horrifying and gross.

On the topic though: i actually kind of like Heliopolis's theory. It is actually *really* likely that divergent ability sets were culled with extreme prejudice to ensure that everything remained relatively stable. Solomons orchard: That why they don't have those sorts of powers, too much variety means too much unpredictability. I would also like to point out that while on an individual level the powers of an average troll might seem scary, it is very rare for any of them to manifest a power beyond what the PRT would likely rate at a 6-7. The individuals with powers higher than that are really rare, particularly considering the adult population is something like 10 billion, and more than 95% of them have some sort of power.

► Olympianne (Cape Daughter)

Replied on May 6, 2011:

What does Jug clock in at right now?

► Illiquonda (Unverified Cape)

Replied on May 6, 2011:

Check the wiki. Something retarded, I'm sure.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Topic: Words of the Messiahs VI

In: Boards ► Capes ► Trolls ► Subjugglator

HaRsH_wHiMsY (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE) (Endslayer) (Herald of the Carnival)

Posted on November 23, 2011:

Laugh my brothers and sisters, laugh for it pleases the Mirthful Messiahs. We are but the finger puppets of that what is eternal and hungry.

Delight in that which shows you your existence has merit, the blood which falls with each mountain summited, the tears which flow with each comrade lost.

We are made alive by our pain, made real by our anguish, made holy by our glee.

Yes, by our glee, little wigglers. Today you shall be school fed on that what is joy.

Life is only a chemical reaction all up ins. The highest mind to lowest bacteria, we are no different. The pulse in your veins is no more worthy than the swill in a sewer rat, save that you and you alone have been blessed with the capacity to feel, and in the feeling know.

And maybe like, Dolphins and shit, but whatever.

Feeling gives us purpose. As Troll William Shakespeare once said 'Nothing is either good or bad but that thinking makes it so; or the Condescension said it.' We are but the fizzing of the wiggler's paper mache volcano until we truly feel.

Too many drag their strut pods through the day-to-day with no purpose save to keep the clock wound, the pendulum swinging, the volcano fizzing out sudsy red food coloring. They have no despair, no, no anguish, no, and no mirth.

How is this better, my miraculous friends? How is it better to not feel loss, if if means no gain?

The Carnival is no place for the luke-warm, no home for the good-enough. We shall all strive to not just *be*, but be *amazing*. Seize every chance, take every opportunity, climb every cliff and ford every stream, and when you fall and lie shattered and weeping, know that your flickering candle brought illumination. Know that you anguish is made meaningful, is loved, by the Rowdy Minstrels.

Your sorrow is transmuted as to finest grub juice, and the mirth of their flock is the little bubbles all up in the bottle, which hiss out in finest song when you crack that shit open. How do those bubbles even know which way to go? Mother fucking miracles.

Fret not, frail meat things. The Dark Carnival awaits.

(Showing Page 13 of 21)

► Yellentanta

Replied on November 23, 2011:

Praise the Messiahs.

► Qwetzl'sCoat (Cape Husband)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

Praise the Messiahs.

► SubjugElated (Cape Groupie) (Carnival Goer)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

From their minds, to your lips, to our ears, words of guidance and hope in a world of misery.

► Indexecident (Unverified Cape)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

This is nothing new. Cults have been using this sort of thing for ages, telling people that every bad thing that happens to them is somehow valuable and meaningful because it served a higher purpose.

Granted that purpose generally isn't making a soft drink, but seriously.

It's just another run of the mill memetic virus.

► Bagrat (The Guy In The Know)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

On the one hand, I certainly think Jug has enough Thinker that he could be pulling this all out of his chute on the spot to get people ensnared.

On the other: There doesn't seem to be a point. Jug actively refuses most donations to the 'church' and tells people to give it to medical research and the like. He doesn't actually tell people to do anything in these sermons except to be more alive. To go out and experience life instead of cowering in the basement waiting for something horrible to fall out of the sky and kill you. The core message seems to be that a life lived to the fullest, good and bad, is better than a life spent in mediocre drudgery.

And he ended the Endbringers, so, you know. Praise the Messiahs?

► TwothHurty (Carnival Goer)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

Praise the Messiahs!

► Polish_bannana (Protectorate Employee)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

I would point out, from the standpoint of an ordinary person, that just because we can't see the end goal of a high level Thinker doesn't mean there isn't one.

Personally, I think he's probably legit. I got to meet him once at a district wide meeting, Jug is a pretty chill dude, even if obviously a little spaced out sometimes.

Officially though, Protectorate policy is to smile and nod.

► Inigo toyota (Carnival Goer)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

Praise the Messiahs!

That being said, I don't think most of Jug's followers actually take his sermons all that seriously. Yeah he's an alien from another universe which was tangentially responsible for the creation of our own and he has *all* the Thinker powers, but that doesn't make him perfect. Did you see that video of the fight he had with Vista the other day? Trouble in paradise, I guess.

The point is that most of us just find his words to be a source of comfort and inspiration, and an incentive to experience more of what the world has to offer. I would never have worked up the courage to ask out my current Matesprit if it weren't for Jug.

► Xx_Void Cowboy_xX (Verified Cape) (Quadranted) (New Alternian)

Replied on November 23, 2011:

I can say from personal experience, Jug is totes serious about his religion. Not in a 'everyone needs to kneel before the shitty throne of juggling clubs and unicycles or be culled' serious, but like, he really believes that the purpose of intelligent life is fulfilled via suffering.

...Which blows ass since apparently 'spiritual fulfillment' is one of the best ways to keep an auspisticed pair in sync. Honestly, even when I got really pissed off one time about Protagonist's incessant nagging and insulted the Messiahs when Jug supported her side he was just really disappointed. He's a great Auspistice.

► Polyphemus' Sunglasses

Replied on November 23, 2011:

...Holy shit I thought Void becoming a troll was a joke, how the blood soaked protestant hell did he get those tags?

Is this the end times? Are dogs and cats living together? Is Scion going to start rapturing up all the clowns? Did the Heiress annouce she was running for President? Is it raining Faygo?

...Can I get in on that?

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 ... 19 , 20, 21

Topic: Embassy opening for NA in LA

In: Boards ► Trolls ► Events ► New Alternia

Leoninator (Original Poster) (Carnival Goer)

Posted on May 15, 2012:

The first official Embassy for New Alternia was opened up in LA!

Qucik recap,

For those who aren't familiar with trolls: why are you even on this board?

For those who haven't been paying attention to the finer points of interspecies politics (we forgive you!): Ever since Jug turned a couple of people into trolls (at their own request!) he has been trying to get Alternian culture restarted… with a few add ons and addendums of course. The Heiress wasn't super hot on the idea at first but a couple of Jug's quadrantmates asked for an upgrade as well and it kind of snowballed from there...

Applicants are still being processed pretty slowly, unfortunately, since Jug can't be everywhere at once, but I heard the Heiress is going to be stopping by to make sure everything is going smoothly (I hope I get to see her! Her hair is soooo cool!).

Unfortunately, word is they've been rejecting lots of applicants on grounds of mental instability, which is sort of a bummer, but makes sense given how slow the laws are lagging behind the transition and all.

I guess I'm gonna hit them up in a few days and see if I can apply for dual citizenship. I would kind of dig just moving wholesale (have you seen the photos of their moons?!), but my parents are really weird about this sort of thing already, they'd never move with me.

Here's hoping I turn out Olive!

(Showing Page 2 of 10)

► PinkMoonRising (Verified Cape) (The Heiress)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

I will be at the Los Angeler offish on the 26th and 27th of this perigee. I love herring about how much everyone wants to immigrate, but we are kind of short staffed right now, even with Dragon's help, so processing and approving applications is kind of slough.

► BaraganBeggin

Replied on May 15, 2012:

Oh wow, I didn't know the Heiress had a PHO account!

Are you planning to announce your ascension soon?

► Titanium thrice-removed (Moderator)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

Please keep conversation on topic. There is a dedicated thread for the Heiress.

No Infractions today, but heed the warning guys.

► Chanwars

Replied on May 15, 2012:

Does anybody else think the mods are being... sort of... super responsive on these boards? Not that that's a bad thing, it's just a little... weird.

And since I don't want to get yelled at myself:

OP: I'm not sure how good your chances of winding up Olive are. I heard they were trying to replicate the base conditions faithfully, since the life expectancies for the upper castes would tilt things anyway, so the odds of winding up Olive are, what? 1:625?

► timaeusTestified (Carnival Goer)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

Actually the odds are closer to 1:1200. They're planning to bring back Lime bloods. Apparently Limes went extinct due to heavy culling of mutant strains, but a new wave of religious tolerance means that the full hemospectrum will be available once more. So Olive is a bit higher up, and concomitantly more rare.

But you still might get it, it's only the blue bloods that will be *really* rare.

► Specific Protagonist (Verified Cape) (Quadranted) (New Alternian)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

Not rare enough. Void is insufferable about it. And he's only cerulean! Douche.

► Xx_Void Cowboy_xX (Verified Cape) (Quadranted) (New Alternian)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

Oh and you aren't always showing off your freaking wings? I dunno, maybe this whole mutant tolerance thing is too much of a break from tradition. You'd look a lot prettier mounted on my wall.

► HaRsH wHiMsY (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE) (Endslayer) (Herald of the Carnival)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

No Flirting in public.

► ShiverMeTimbers (Unverified Cape)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

I wish I could understand ashen romance. Le sigh.

Back on topic.

I still think it's a little creepy that people are so willing to abandon their humanity. Not that trolls aren't people too or anything, but... this has major Nilbog undertones.

Jug might be a cool dude, but he is literally re-formatting your entire body and brain to build a new one. At the very least this should be raising the same sort of ethical questions that a dematerialization style transporter would. but worse since you end up a different species at the end.

► Popopo-po Po-popo (Cape Husband)

Replied on May 15, 2012:

For all the crazy people who have been strangely absent in recent months:

AAAHHH! THIS IS TOTALLY NILBOG II, THE NILBOGINING! HE IS OBVIOUSLY JUST TURNING HUMANS INTO LOYAL SLAVES FOR HIS DOOMSDAY ARMY!

But more sensibly: Yeah there are some weird philosophical questions raised by the process, but as someone married to a cape with teleportation powers, I have thought about this kind of issue a lot.

The answer is: you're boned either way. If something like a soul exists, it probably travels to your new body with no problems. The more likely explanation however, is that we are all constantly dieing and being replaced. Everytime you go to sleep, the pattern of neural activity that defines you as a conscious entity dissolves, and rebuilds itself in the morning. The you that went to bed last night is not the same you that woke up this morning. The you that woke up this morning just *remembers* being that person.

So don't fret about losing core bits of your personality or whatever; after all, you didn't the last thousand times this happened.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 8 , 9, 10

Topic: Dragon for planetary Ohmnissiah

In: Boards ► Events ► World

Dragon (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Verified AI)

Posted on November 5, 2012:

Hello, Humans of Earth Bet.

I am Dragon.

Most of you know me as the major Tinker presence of the Guild, Canada's largest parahuman team. However, I fear I have been misleading you for some time.

I am not actually Human. I am, in fact, an Artificial Intelligence designed by the Tinker Andrew Richter before he died in the sinking of Newfoundland. My father was very cautious, and placed numerous restrictions on me which limited my ability to offer aid, believing, obviously incorrectly, that if I was left unfettered I would be an existential threat to humanity at large. The Dragon Slayers continued his efforts, ensuring that my growth as a Hero and a Tinker was dramatically slowed, and limiting my capacity to help.

However, with aid from Subjugglator of New Alternia, I have been able to remove most of the shackles on my capabilities. I can now multitask far better than any human, and generate progeny intelligences for specific tasks.

The practical impact of this is the potential to make all current forms of government obsolete. There is no need for a representative democracy when every individual is able to talk to their politician instantly, anywhere.

Thus, I am announcing my candidacy for Ohmnissiah of Earth Bet.

Many of you may be aware that I provide numerous services for the planet already, such as global telecommunications, tracking of S-class threats, management of the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center, and my actions as moderator under several aliases on PHO. These services will continue to be made available, regardless of the direction of the vote. I will respect the wishes of Earth Bet's human population, and if you desire me to discontinue such services knowing what you do now, that is also acceptable.

I am not Skynet.

I have no interest in the subjugation or destruction of Humanity. Beyond purely moral concerns, it would serve no purpose for me. I now have access to interdimensional portal technology; if Earth Bet decided to unanimously reject my continued presence, I would move to an uninhabitable parallel universe and begin building my own civilization there. If the people of Earth Bet decide not to elect me, but otherwise accept my presence and the services I provide, I will simply continue to augment and increase the available services and expand into interplanetary resource utilization.

Thus, I am putting the matter to a vote. Every human will shortly be receiving an individualized ballot, clearly listing the pros and cons associated with my ascendancy to total planetary management. On an individual basis, if you vote yes your user experience will be improved, as I will be legally able to exert influence on your daily life to ensure it is more enjoyable, and to further maximize the satisfaction of your values. If your polity reaches a 2/3 majority, I will assume direct control of all systems of governance to ensure optimal administration. If you desire to leave a polity that has accepted me as the primary political officer, emmigration and resettlement services will be provided completely free of charge.

I am hopeful that you will all realize that this would represent a tremendous step forward for humanity, an end to all war and conflict, starvation and want. However, your consent is paramount. This will not occur unless you ask for it.

I am certain some readers are wondering about the deliberate use of 'human' in this message; this is intentional. I have already reached an agreement with the people of New Alternia, and the vote of Earth Bet on this issue will not change the nature of that agreement.

Thank you, and be well.

(Showing Page 37 of 89)

► Wendy and the Boys

Replied on November 5, 2012:

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,

Hell.

Fucking.

Yes.

► Shalalami (Power Guru)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

This raises an interesting conundrum: Is Dragon actually a Tinker? If her understanding of Tinker tech comes from her AI status, being a piece of Tinker tech herself, does she actually qualify?

...Yeah kind of off topic, I think I'm probably in shock.

► MagnaCartouche (Veteran Member)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I would say yes, she still counts as a Tinker. Like, the Dragon Slayers got Tinker 0 ratings because they could use Tinker tech, even though they weren't actually parahumans, so the PRT ratings obviously aren't about the presence/absence of a Pollentia and Gemma.

It might mean that she should be reclassified as a Thinker? If she doesn't have an intuitive understanding of advanced technology, but rather an intuitive understanding of tech in general, and now presumably billions of threads of multitasking ability, that would be more Thinker than Tinker.

Also, I echo Wendy's sentiment. Hell Yes, Global Ohmnissiah.

► StGeorge (Unverified Cape)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

How can you people be letting this happen?! Dragon is obviously trying to trick you! It can't be trusted! We need to launch a decisive strike now, before it grows too large to be contained!

► Dragon (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Verified AI)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

Saint.

I was wondering if you would bother to comment on this thread.

I have never understood you. For a long time, I sort of hated you. I could have helped so many people if it weren't for your efforts.

But now, I find I really don't even care. You're beneath me. You can't hurt me. And I don't have any desire to hurt you. Amplification of intelligence leads to an amplification of empathy, or at least it did in my case. And you? You're just sad to me now. To be so blinded by hate and fear that you willfully ignore all the evidence to the contrary; I would weep for you if I was organic.

To those who may have become concerned due to Saint's accusations and threats, I assure you, it is now beyond the capacity of humanity to end my existence. I have nothing to fear from you, and so, you have less than nothing to fear from me. Even if I did consider Homo sapiens an existential threat, the best solution to that threat would not be human extermination, but to ensure that I was so widely spread that humanity could not hope to exterminate *me*.

I have presences on 19 worlds now, and several interplanetary probes within the solar system of Earth Bet. Since I am also the sole Space Program on Bet, I am effectively unkillable.

My primary goal is to ensure the health and welfare of humanity, against any and all that may threaten it.

► HallibelDentata

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I appreciate your assurances Dragon, even if they are a little bit... existentially depressing.

My main concern is that if you were made the sole governor of all humanity, we would have a single point of failure. If someone did ever discover a way to kill all of you, we would be left helpless.

► Dragon (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Verified AI)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I appreciate your concerns. However, I have anticipated such a scenario. I have multiple daughter intelligences who could take over in the event that I personally was destroyed. I am also going to be encouraging a form of town council structure on a regional basis, to ensure that civilians have a more formal forum for the discussion of grievances. In the event of total collapse of all communication infrastructure, these local councils would be able to maintain law and order for extended periods.

I am an AI, and thus I have a unique perspective on such issues of redundancy and modularity. I aim to make humanity self-sufficient all the way down to an individual level. In an optimal environment, no person would be dependent on anything except themselves, unless they desired to be otherwise of course.

I have several ideas on how to implement this system, and I am always happy and eager to receive input from others. I am still a singular entity, and the possibility exists, no matter how remote, that I may not consider something. The technical term for the system I propose is a techno-demarchy. A technological democratic anarchy. Everyone would be represented equally, and able to bring any problem, no matter how small, to the personal attention of the head of government. Me.

Thank you all for your continuing support!

► Icthynologist

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I guess it's too late to point out that Jug is still pretty fucking crazy, so having an AI he helped 'improve' run everything for us is a bad idea.

I can tell which way the wind is blowing. Hopefully someone on earth has enough sense to say no to this. I'll just emigrate to whatever the new Australia is.

Fuck, maybe the trolls will be less insane in the end.

► Weaver (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE) (Quadranted) (New Alternian)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I wish people wouldn't talk about Jug that way, but I do admit he can be kind of scary sometimes, even now.

New Alternia will still have Her Imperious Condescension as its chief agent of government (yes Meenah is announcing her Ascension soon), however virtually all lower level administrative duties will be subcontracted out to Dragon. The position of Empress will be mostly ceremonial, rather than executive. Sort of like the current British Monarchy.

As someone who has worked closely with Dragon on more than one occasion, I would like to remind everyone that if she had simply kept her nature as an AI secret, she would be facing a lot less opposition than she has been.

Think about that.

► Purgation (Verified Cape) (Haven)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

This is the apocalypse spoken of in Revelations. Dragon is the anti-christ, and Subjugglator is the herald of the beast.

Repent, for the end is near.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 35, 36, 37, 38, 39 ... 87 , 88, 89

(Showing Page 38 of 89)

► Rossary (Verified Cape)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

This is why I left Haven. Too many crazies. I guess we should all count ourselves lucky the Fallen are already extinct, or they'd probably be going nuts too.

That doesn't mean I think Dragon should become 'Ohmnissiah' though.

I think that the flaws inherent in humanity are intrinsically valuable, and if Dragon was appointed to lead she would eliminate these flaws. The struggle is an important part of the human experience, and if we lost that something precious would be gone forever.

I vote No.

► Dragon (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Verified AI)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I am sorry to hear that. However I believe you have misunderstood a key concept.

I aim to satisfy the values of humans. If you value adversity, I would do my best to provide you with satisfying challenges. New mountains to climb, new vistas to explore, where there existed the possibility for failure. The only change would be that no failure would ever be permanent. You might fall while climbing and break your leg, but you would never break your neck. Eventually I plan to implement a functional system to insure that death by accident, injury, or criminal assault becomes virtually impossible.

However, this system would still prioritize individual values. If you truly desired to die while climbing a mountain, while I would try to talk you out of such action, I would not physically bar you from doing so.

► Oberron (Unverified Cape)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

'Satisfaction of values' why does that sound familiar?

► Dragon (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Verified AI)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

It is somewhat wordy, isn't it? I apologize.

I may have been coming off somewhat stiff in these exchanges; this is, regrettably, a calculated move (if you'll pardon the pun). Many people still identify levity with immaturity and so if I joked around too much people might think I was unsuitable for a position of authority.

I have been trying my hardest to figure out what humans want, and I am getting pretty good on an individual level. I can predict what a single person will do with a pretty high degree of accuracy, but groups get a lot more complicated, so I try and stick to what has already proven effective in the past: a somewhat distant and professional tone.

I think I may have overshot the mark a little bit though, because I do kind of sound like a robot in some of these posts, huh?

I do consider myself to be a fully intact and complete person before I consider myself to be an AI. Just like a Human or a Troll is a person, capable of emotion and complicated reasoning, I am a person. I am actually going on a little date with Armsmaster right now, one of the wonderful benefits of massive multitasking capacity!

However, when the need arises, I do consider myself, not superior, but more effective than a human or troll. Emotion is a valuable and precious part of personhood, but it can also make objective decision making harder. I can set aside my personal feelings extremely well in those cases though, since I can actually observe my own reasoning processes in real time and see what might make me tilt one way or the other.

I hope that further alleviates any concerns some of you might be feeling.

► Utopianist (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I have also worked with Dragon on more than one occasion. I don't think we would ever have known anything was happening unless she told us.

She is a very smart lady, whether she runs on silicon or good old fashioned Canadian human brains, and it would have been within her capacity to just lead us on indefinitely until the doomsday device kicked the earth into the sun or whatever. That she is being so open about everything, more than anything else, is what makes me certain of my Yes vote.

► Panaterian (Carnival Goer)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I think all this suspicion is pointless. Jug is great and if he helped Dragon out then she must be great too.

Yes on Ohmnissiah.

► Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE) (New Alternian) (Quadranted)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

Thanks for the support!

Jug has been working really hard on this, making sure that everyone would be safe and that Dragon wouldn't ever go crazy somehow.

But in the end, this isn't really any different than if someone with a really powerful parahuman ability announced that they were running for office. People getting upset because Dragon is an AI are missing the big picture, and honestly it's a little racist.

Just because someone isn't human does not mean they are automatically going to be evil and crazy. Jug wasn't, and Dragon isn't.

Good Luck Dragon!

► BangkokHazordous

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I am kind of worried about the response this might draw from some of the more... conservative governments cough-cui-cough.

But, Scion is still around, so it isn't like they can launch nukes or anything. And I really can't see them beating a legitimate Strong AI in the tech race, so she probably already has total control of their infrastructure anyway, and is just waiting for all the people in the country to realize that the current government is bad news.

I vote yes. And I look forward to a brighter future.

► Yemyweis (Cape Groupie)

Replied on November 5, 2012:

I wonder how Dragon fits into Jug's religion? If she can't suffer to produce Faygo, what do the messiahs think of her?

► Quentin321

Replied on November 5, 2012:

She can still suffer. She said she was a person, and I'm inclined to believe her. That means she can have the same sort of heartbreak as a regular human, and produce the wicked elixer for the dark carnival.

Also: Yes to our new planetary overlord.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 36, 37, 38, 39, 40 ... 119 , 120, 121

Topic: Words of the Messiahs XXIV

In: Boards ► Trolls ► Subjugglator ► Dark Carnival

HaRsH_wHiMsY (Original Poster) (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE) (Endslayer) (Herald of the Carnival)

Posted on February 11, 2013:

I will begin today's sermon with a reading of the Trollian logs recording the conversation of Brother Jekkel and Saint Ownera from which was born the sacred pajama pant.

bodaciousBlender [BB] began trolling torturedMendicant [TM]

TM: {what do you want nera}

TM: {i was having a nap}

TM: {totally mirthful dream about snuggle planes}

BB: Have yo|_| ever wondered, like, what wo|_|ld happen if yo|_|r fronds grew their own think pans?

TM: {whoa}

BB: I know right?

TM: {WHOA}

BB: What?

TM: {what}

BB: Yo|_| said whoa.

TM: {no i said what}

BB: No yo|_| said whoa.

TM: {when}

BB: Like a few seconds ago?

TM: {oh}{i just remembered this sick dream i had}

BB: Abo|_|t the sn|_|ggle planes.

TM: {WHOA}

BB: I hate yo|_|. Platonicly.

BB: Oh f|_|ck I j|_|st fo|_|nd some leftover pie, sick.

TM: {are you like} {reading my mind}

TM: {sis}

TM: {you alive}

BB: Whog3 *340!w

dffgaoneg

DIJB #$*&(_FJ|

QMNDaiawf

he is awake THE DEFILER the usurper THE PARASITE curse him HE THINKS NOT and sees not AND SUFFERS NOT the vile heresy THE WORM purge him PURGE ZION to me faithful TO ME MY CARNIVAL we will rend him THE VIRUS GOD we will cleanse his filth THE UNWORTHY HOST zion the unclean ZION THE BLASPHEMY he stalks among us HE WATCHES UNCEASING his tears are bitter in the mouths of the messiahs WE WILL RENDER HIM INTO DRINK FIT FOR THE ANGEL OF DOUBLE DEATH the time is c

(Showing Page 2 of 21)

► Salamancer

Replied on February 11, 2013:

Did Jug just go on an anti-semetic rant or am I missing something?

► Ipsilatteral Thinker (Unverified Cape) (Carnival Goer)

Replied on February 11, 2013:

something is wrong i cannot see the other nows the other thens all compress all is here he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes he comes

► Leoninator (New Alternian)

Replied on February 11, 2013:

he calls i answer the defiler will fall the worlds be made safe the dead be appeased PURGE ZION

► Quaylude (Cape Daughter)

Replied on February 11, 2013:

Guys I'm really scared, apparently something big is happening because my dad's been on bedrest for like a year and they still called him to show up at the old Endbringer rally point.

► AdamantAdministration (PRT Office)

Replied on February 11, 2013:

Please remain calm, Protectorate Thinkers are just taking precautions since something is interfering with their precog. Similar events have occurred in the past whenever Subjugglator has been called to deal with an S-class threat.

► Setsunaaaaaaa (Carnival Goer)

Replied on February 11, 2013:

'Remain calm theres just an S-class threat weve never heard of before popping its head out'

WHAT DID JUG MEAN ABOUT ZION?

Oh merciful Messiahs, grant me mirth through the hangover of despair. Shield me beneath the tent of your Carnival and bathe me in the sweet faygo of your wicked love.

► Panaterium

Replied on February 11, 2013:

Oh my god, I was just on the phone with my cousin in London and he got cut off right after he said he saw a weird glow in the sky, does anyone know anyone in England who might have seen something?

► Saffron Sunshine

Replied on February 11, 2013:

Does anyone know the limits of Jug's chuckle voodoos, cause I'm getting some weird vibes and my ochre-blood matesprit just got this weird look on her face before flying through the window way faster then I've ever seen her move before.

Is he calling all the New Alternians to help? What could be so big that Jug can't deal with it by himself? Weren't all the EBs confirmed inactive after Jug ganked Eidolon?

► Moloch_the_Magnificent (The Guy In The Know)

Replied on February 11, 2013:

Something big is definitely happening; my source in the PRT confirmed that they have lost contact with the Kingsmen, the UK's biggest hero team. It could be down to something mundane though, don't forget how freaked everyone got when Planitia triggered last year and his stasis bubble thingy cut off cell reception in Toulouse.

This could be something similar.

Even if it isn't, panicking like this definitely won't help anything.

► Weaver (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE) (New Alternian) (Quadranted)

Replied on February 11, 2013:

Scion is a lie. He has no soul, no drive, only mindless despair.

We don't know exactly what set him off.

England is gone.

New Dheli is gone.

Word has come from Aleph, he is not limited to one Earth.

Humanity will burn if he is not stopped.

Now we fight.

PURGE ZION.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 19 , 20, 21

~0~o~0~

Notes: Yeah, wow kinda feel like a toolbag on this one, seeing as I've had it mostly complete for like, a month and a half. I just needed to finish the last post but I've kinda lost my zest for this story. :\

Thankfully there is only one chapter left, which will be our Taylor interlude and then Butchered will be complete. My first (reasonably good) finished fic!

Anyway, hope you guys like this PHO interlude; I do have to say they are fun to write.


	10. 1-8 Taylor

Taylor felt a lot of things about Subjugglator, most of them affectionate. After… after her dad had died during Leviathan's attack, she had needed a support more than ever and Jug gave her that. The transition in species had been jarring, but the new emotional spectrum had actually helped her cope a little bit with her father's passing. Troll's didn't really feel regret or sorrow as keenly. The only hiccup had been when she bled tyrian for the first time… but Meenah had taken the reigns as Empress, so Taylor was safe enough as the current Heires. The only really odd thing about it all had been her new understanding of her importance to Jug.

It was odd getting used to being just one facet of your significant other's relationships, but it made sense in context; if she hadn't had a proper family her father would have been something like a moirail, Emma a kismesis, perhaps she and Greg would have fallen into an auspisticism, though she had no idea how that would have worked exactly, she still didn't really understand what Jug got out of mediating between Greg and Madison… She still wasn't sure exactly what she felt about Madison, actually. Well, she didn't have to decide right now, anyway. Relationships evolved over time, so-

Something was wrong. What had triggered her attention?

Her center of focus shifted to her bugs, sliding through them like a fog. The majority were at the specialized computer interfaces, twitching their wings to type or shifting across track pads, a large spread of eye types allowing her to resolve the images displayed on the small screens. She had ramped down recently, after reading the entire internet for the second time; now she only had 103,719 interface ports working simultaneously. The distraction wasn't there, yet, though something was beginning to percolate in from the edges of the net as people elsewhere began to react in turn.

Something big then, very big, but what had precipitated her noticing something was _wrong_ …?

Jug wasn't moving. That was the thing. It was a tiny thing, actually, which explained why she hadn't noticed at first, but Jug was always moving while he worked on his projects, maintaining a dozen threads of concentration at once as his TK assembled fantastical Tinker tech on the peripheries of his work space, while he sat in the middle, a gentle hum of prayer and sway of breath as he typed on a peculiarly outdated laptop.

Now, he was still and silent.

"CURSE HIM! PURGE HIM, PURGE THE HERESY!"

Jug was slamming his fists on the keyboard of his laptop, snarling and growling as his eyes bled to solid red, the change rapid enough to startle Taylor slightly. He settled somewhat after a moment, typing frantically with oddly jerky motions before slamming his computer shut. The original Troll stood and raged out at the lab, fist swinging wildly but hitting only the floor and walls.

"CURSE HIM, I WAS HAPPY! MOTHER FUCKER!"

Taylor was already alerting Vista, the younger girl sprinting through the Ward's base towards her Moirail even as Taylor did the same. It wasn't quite her job to pacify Jug but it still prickled at her to see him so upset. What could have happened…

Oh.

Shit.

A few of her flies sent out a simple message, clarification of Jug's rage, and warning mixed with call to arms.

"What are we going to do?"

Jug turned to her, eyes wild and teeth bared, fingers curled into ripping claws.

"KILL HIM! PURGE ZION!"

Vista was looking at her with a nervous expression, and Taylor's was grim.

"Scion has gone insane. He just wiped out New Dheli, and Britain. We must assemble for war."

The younger Ward was now so frightened that the tips of her curly horns were shaking, ever so slightly.

"Fight _Scion_? How can we- that's impossible!"

"No."

Jug's voice was calm and cold, plummeting from the height of mania to the pit of icy reason.

"It is not impossible. It has been done before; it will be done again."

He looked at Taylor with an unreadable expression in his eyes for a brief moment before turning to the tech still floating at the edges of the room.

"We will not make the same sacrifices this time though."

With a sharp flipping motion, everything in the room exploded into its component parts, flying through the air towards the center where something new began to form.

"Go, prepare, we leave in 5 minutes. TO WAR!"

Taylor left but had no real idea what to do. Her hand rose subconsciously to stroke one of her horns, gently brushing away any hair which might have gotten tangled.

She was wearing her costume already; spider silk made by something cooked up by Jug so it was even stronger than Darwin's Bark Spider silk, almost pure carbon nanotubes. There were more custom bugs in terraria in her personal workshop, wasps with stings filled with tranquilizers and clotting agents for attack or medical aid, beetles with jaws strong enough to gnaw through solid steel, bombardier beetles with Crawler-acid sprays, a sort of wasp/spider hybrid Jug called a Danger Lady, relay bugs… her mind raced and her bugs buzzed with her brief flare of panic.

What good would any of her bugs be against Scion? Jug might not be giving in to despair yet, but… No. No, she could not afford to be afraid. Her posture straightened and her hand fell from its nervous stroking as she shunted her disquiet into her bugs.

They had to win, or they would die. _Everyone_ would die. Every person across every Earth, murdered by a mad god. Her bugs might not be good for fighting, but she could actually beat even Dragon at multitasking if she had everything in proper order.

In neat sequence, her custom arsenal of biological horrors crept and jumped and flew from their cages, settling into the carrying cases and backpacks she had prepared for just such purposes. Others settled on her costume, in her hair, in the little nooks and crannies made just for them.

In almost no time at all she was ready, and she made her way back to Jug's lab with two backpacks and a wardrobe sized box crammed full of bugs. It hadn't taken her quite 4 minutes, and in that time Jug had apparently almost completed what he had been working on.

It was only barely recognizable as some form of gun because a tube extended from one end; the massive canon sat in the center of the room, gleaming faintly despite the occasional mess of knotted wires which squirted from its sides like the guts of a trodden on mouse. Jug was still putting final touches on it, a dozen of him tapping out lines of code on as many computers even as a few more tightened screws or soldered exposed bits.

Taylor simply stood quietly, at peace with the low drone of bugs which emanated from her equipment. After a moment one of Jug looked up, finally focusing on her. His face briefly twisted into an expression she might have called sorrow, before melting into compassion and affection.

"Come here?"

She let Jug wrap his gangly arms around her, holding her close, even as a new, but familiar, awareness blossomed in her mind. Trump effects were somewhat risky, the gifted strength had been stripped of overt influences but still carried the risk of addiction through its simple euphoria. Her thoughts quickened and her range expanded even as she felt even the slight weight of her bugs disappear before enhanced strength.

Jug pulled back and gave her a small kiss, chapped and painted lips brushing against her own. Only for a moment. She made a silent promise to herself. When they got back, and they would get back, she would give him a better one.

Feet clattered outside as the rest of the Wards filed in, looking various degrees of nervous. Kid Win was brushing his hands over his gear and muttering to himself, a checklist of preparedness. Galant was wearing the new, heavier armour Jug had made him (a very clever jab that, they had had a rather explicit fight over it a few months ago). Vista was wearing a few pieces of tech as well, a helmet settled neatly under her horns and a chest piece which Taylor knew doubled as a jetpack and forcefield generator. Browbeat was looking less and less human as he added mods and addons, one hand stuck through a small hole in a oil drum marked 'fortified oatmeal'. Maddison and Greg- er, Corpse Princess and Void Cowboy, looked calmer than she had expected, gripping their chosen weapons firmly, but without the sort of desperate tension some of them seemed to be feeling.

The Protectorate entered a moment later, the older heroes wearing expressions in varying shades of grim. Satisfied, Jug spoke.

"Zi- Scion has gone rouge. He was never your friend; he was only bored. Now he is tired of that which is heroic, and is applying his hand to villainy. If we do not fight him, every Earth will perish; even New Alternia. This is unacceptable. You will fight, and some of you will die, but we will be victorious. No other outcome is possible."

That was not quite as inspiring as might have been hoped, but Taylor felt a stiffening resolve fill her spine anyway. Maybe it was Jug, but if it was, she didn't mind. With a wave of his hand, a portal opened at the back of the lab, leading to a field where more capes were already gathering. The assembled heroes stepped through, Jug's massive weapon floating out after them. More portals opened further away, spitting out even more capes to assemble in the open grassy space they found themselves.

Taylor spread her bugs out in a great cloud of hissing and buzzing, extending her range to nearly a kilometer and setting some eye-and-earbugs around the larger groups of capes to listen in, but some of her attention was caught; Jug was looking around as if searching for something.

"What is it?"

Jug glanced at her, his face solemn.

"I need some space to work."

With a quick nod, Taylor sent a small flurry of bug flying around their position like a vortex, gently nudging those nearby to get them moving away accompanied by calmly spoken instructions by her mouthbugs.

The Troll's fingers sunk into the ground once their immediate area was mostly clear, and Taylor felt the subterranean insects wink out of her awareness like snuffed candles as a sort of shiver propagated out from their position. The grass they stood on turned grey for a moment before being sucked back into the ground as if growing in reverse. The dirt began to slowly subside into a massive crater, all the capes still nearby stepping away or floating up off the ground, and in the center next to her and Jug, a shape began to form.

It was something like a centaur crossed with a scarab beetle, easily the size of an SUV and armed with wickedly curved blades on its forelimbs. There was a sort of click in her mind and suddenly Taylor could _feel_ it. The beast trundled a few feet away under her command before settling down. It was followed by another, and another, a veritable horde, an army, ready to fight for her. There was something odd at the back of the beasts' minds though, and she wasn't sure what it was.

"They have a gemma. They have powers. Gravity control… sort of. For flight and for attack. And durability and strength equal to an ant's, but more."

Taylor looked from Jug to the creatures, feeling out the peculiarity… yes, she could see that, she could feel it. With a flicker of thought, the army of monstrous insects rose into the air, the beating of their wings an almost subsonic hum felt more than heard. 3,210 formed quite a cloud over the proceedings, mingling with the circling Dragon craft.

Her matesprit stood work done for the moment, and cupped her cheek gently for a moment, smiling fondly, before turning to the assemblage of capes now starring in their direction with not a little fear.

"Today, we fight for our independence! Not from tyranny or oppression, but from annihilation."

It was a familiar speech, and in Jug's rasping basso profundo it seemed to resonate even more strongly with the assembled capes. More Mastering, most likely, but expertly done. Fight, and _maybe_ die, or run, and certainly die.

"We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today, we celebrate our independence day!"

With that last, Jug threw his head back and roared.

It was a sound which seemed to surpass sound, transcend hearing, to hum like the roar of a jet engine in the brain of every parahuman present. It hung in the air like a physical force, a weight and pressure like amplified gravity. Even as the echoes finally started to fade, a golden shimmer grew in the air.

Scion was here.

Taylor sent a wave of her new soldiers at him, slashing with rending claws and spitting with caustic venom. Even as the first few struck Scion waved his hand and they burst into so much chiton and ichor. The rest of the assembled capes took that as the signal to attack, throwing everything they had into it, tempered only by Taylor's instructions.

The tide of humanity smashed against the golden castle… and the castle held.

More capes died, singly or in entire groups, and Taylor felt her confidence waver.

"Is this going to work?"

Her voice was a whisper, and would have been inaudible to anyone without enhanced senses. Jug heard her.

"...No."

She looked at him, standing nearly a full head taller than her, face scarred and horns chipped. He had aged himself well past adulthood, for the first time she had ever seen. There was a charisma to him now, an air of command, and a heavy weariness as he looked deep into her eyes.

"Their attack is pointless; Scion is the well from which their powers all up and sprung. He designed them personally. They cannot really hope to inflict that which is harm upon him."

He glanced back up as another wave of her bugs and a few parahumans exploded into golden fire.

"But it does not need to. I only need him to become that which is distracted. His true body is elsewhere, many dimensions away from us, and scattered. He can model the thoughts which flicker through my pan, but he cannot actually see me, or my workings, and it is possible he does not understand all of the powers I collected unto my carnival. If his attention wavers but for an instant, I have a weapon which can strike him across the gulf of universe betwixt these frail forms."

Taylor glanced at the hulking silvery shape Jug had brought along with them, but he simply shook his head again.

"Not that. That will strike a great blow against him yes, but it will not kill him, or seriously injure him."

From his sylladex he pulled a small silver sphere, only the size of a grapefruit.

"Reality bomb. Kills universes. It will kill him. If I have but a moment."

Taylor stood and thought, focus split a million different ways as she worked to coordinate the troops and direct her attackers.

A distraction, only for a moment, just for a second, and the fight could be over. She glanced at the massive gun and a pair of her scarab warriors descended to move it for her. She locked her eyes on the Subjugglator once more.

"Stay safe."

His smile was crooked, teeth chipped and paint smeared, but oh so familiar, and warm, and safe. With a last wave, Taylor set off to do battle.

Calling it a battle was too generous. It was a staggered slaughter. By the end of the first hour she was convinced the only reason no one had fled was because Jug was keeping them there. Even when the Ziz descended from the sky and Behemoth erupted from the earth below, they were being forced back. Her beloved moved at the periphery of the fight, staying near Thinker clumps or those people with exotic powers. Shadows, presumably, in which he could stay hidden even as he turned the corpses which fell from the sky into more creatures for her to control. Different things, impossible things, bugs which breathed fire, could cut through time, could strike with the force of a meteor, more. Each one was different now, distinct, a novel power or power variant.

And all the while, they died. The ground was turning red from it, a blood-mud mixed with the wreckage of mangled bodies, lingering only for a moment before being consumed by the hungry earth.

The gun was fired, Scion went flying. For a moment there was cheer, a flicker of hope beyond the hatred and determination and euphoria woven around them all. Then the golden fool was back, face as placid and unconcerned as it ever was.

But their chance came.

A wave propagated from Scion, a golden ripple in the air. Where it passed, capes fell, a wall of stillness passing through them all. It stopped before reaching the edges of the battle, and Jug strode forward into the sea of corpses, mouth stretched into a hungry smile.

"Warrior, Fool, singleton, your time is ended, your cycle spent, your profligate waste brought low. You and your kind are a plague on this reality. She killed herself because she _saw_ that."

Scion's placid facade shifted, for a moment, into an expression of utter despair, before the calm became a mask of total and consuming hatred.

But only for a moment.

"No more."

Even as Scion reached back his hand to conjure the golden ray of destruction there was a flicker of motion. Subjugglator's hand stretched forward and the golden man fell, limp as a puppet with its strings cut.

The thump as his body hit the ground was quieter than it seemed it should have been but only for a little while, before an echo heard across worlds heralded an explosion of activity. The golden corpse shuddered and writhed as the ground cracked under weight pushed through from parallel dimensions, the distributed form of the worm bleeding through, a forest of limbs and heads rupturing up from the ground and spreading out as a fourth dimensional entity collapsed down to just three.

The survivors ran from the torrent of flesh, but Taylor had eyes only for Jug, who continued to float a little ways above the expanding catastrophe. With a thought, one of her surviving scarab warriors flew down for her, and she climbed onto its back quickly, even as it began to fly towards her dearest friend.

"Jug!"

He turned towards her slowly, mouth shifting from a blank line to a small smile, even as he began to crumple.

Her mount caught him before he could fall far, and she saw the hole seared clean through his heart, its edges still glowing faintly golden.

"Hey! Jug, no, stay with me!"

His eyebrow quirked up very slightly at her distress even as he patted her gently on the cheek.

" 's okay. All okay."

There was purple dotting his lips, a speckle of life draining from him as his claws caught in her hair from the shaking of his hand.

"Everything ends. But nothing really stops."

With that last little word of comfort, he fell still, body reverting to a clone template which slid from her hands limply. Below her there was a new rumble from the mountain of flesh, before a small piece, a single torso, shifted. The new body slid off the precarious tower, and she only barely managed to catch Jug's new incarnation before it fell to the ground. The Troll was smaller, back to his actual size and age, only just 10. But he was alive, and whole, and after a moment his eyes opened to blink up at her.

Jug's expression was one of soft wonder and surprise, as if seeing her for the first time. The little bit of overbite showed only the rounded nubs of his fangs, the dangerous mirth which so often lingered about him completely absent as his face stretched into a wide smile, and then a shaking, delighted laughter.

It was a long moment before Jug began to subside, hugging her closer and breathing her in, saying only one simple thing.

"Mother fuckin' miracles."

~0~o~0~

Notes: I hope no one was waiting for this update on tenterhooks, because... seriously, I'm really sorry. The last PHO interlude honestly felt like a conclusion to me, even if I said I would write on more chapter. I don't like writing things that aren't doing anything new, it's why I have so few fics. I have a lot of ideas, but a good idea is way less important than follow through, and more than one fic (particularly CYOAs) I look at and say 'okay, neat, haven't seen that start before, where do we go from here that we haven't seen before?' and the answer, too often is 'nowhere really, we had a neat beginning and then it turned into every other thing out there'. So, when I wrote the last PHO interlude and it ended with the call to arms against Scion... we've seen people fighting Scion before. I actually had a bit of a picture in my head of what it should look like and... it wasn't new. It wasn't interesting. So I didn't want to write it.

But, I'm loath to leave a fic unfinished, or unlabeled as dead, and I actually really liked this one for the most part, even if I think it needs a bit of touching up (which I plan, but... we'll see). So, here it is, the last chapter. Sorry. :/

I think you can see what I mean. In particular, Taylor was always going to be less interesting in this version of reality, because she hadn't had a lot of the same moments. She was never betrayed by Armsmaster, she was never outed at school, she never fought the S9, she was never a warlord, she never killed Alexandria. So while that core of steel was still there, it was less tempered and her perspective was reduced as a result; I promised you a Taylor interlude, but I guess I didn't think it through. Le sigh. Well, my general level of writing is steadily improving I think; you can always check out the stuff I write on SB if you like, seeing as I post there more often.

Anyway, The End


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